


Contingency

by seekingjets (0fsilver)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Daddy Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Non-Consensual Spark Bond, Non-Explicit Sex, Original Character(s), Other, Unresolved Romantic Tension, implied mechpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0fsilver/pseuds/seekingjets
Summary: As Decepticon forces fail to hold the line against their longtime enemy - Megatron is denied an honorable last stand by a treacherous act of his Second in Command.Held for years in a state of limbo, Megatron awakens to a world many years removed from that final day. Outdated and grievously injured, the former Warlord finds himself grasping for stability and purpose in a universe which has continued on without him: All at the mercy of the seeker who betrayed him.But as Megatron begins to understand this new universe, he soon learns those final moments were truly not as they seemed.--ON HIATUS





	1. Lapse

**Author's Note:**

> First off I want to say, it has been nearly 10 years since I wrote anything specifically Transformers-based and have a lot to catch up on. 
> 
> *I'm using TFA time units as they're, in my humble opinion, the most straight forward*  
> *Kare = Term for Creator  
> *Ser = Term for Sire
> 
> In ways of canon, adjust as pleases you, but I'm basing this off G1 and some intro IDW works, but pretty up in the air beyond that. Also, please be aware that there will be a fair amount of Original Transformer Characters before we get to those silly silly bots we love. But I do try not to make them too distracting from the story. Hopefully that does not deter you from reading, I just wanted to make it clear they will be present throughout. 
> 
> And as always, please excuse any egregious grammatical errors and misspellings, I’m never one to edit past a general review.

Their last force fails to hold the line and the war’s final chapter is written before their eyes.

Megatron clings to denial as tightly wrapped as his fists. Quivering metal where servos dent from pressure. Beyond his gaze an empire falls. Brilliant white explosions erupt across the Nemesis’ hull. The great ship groans and beings a sickening shift against gravity’s nearest pull. A desolate planet scouted for recovery, ambushed, and now soon to be the Decepticons grave.

“Soundwave, options.” Megatron’s voice will never convey his momentary panic, watching his faction burn just out of reach as the screens fill with the warzone. A Decepticon force scattered and being put down. Soundwave’s console is a screaming mess of alarms. Warnings and rapidly plummeting percentages scroll across the display as Optimus’ forces take the advantage and move closer in.

Devastator pinned and useless. The resolution of desperate mechs sensing victory pushing onward. Megatron watches a pale Seeker snatched mid-air by Superion and is crushed in the same motion. Body left as nothing more than sparks and scrap metal as Megatron feels the world slow: searches for familiar red among the wreckage.

“Regroup.” Soundwave turns to him, voice sharp. “Flee.” The idea of retreat, of a coward’s escape, is just as distasteful to Megatron as failure.

“No.” He refuses, as if stubbornness might keep death at bay. He was forced to retreat back to the ship after taking unexpected damage by some new toy of his enemies’. Left his helm cracked and exposed a delicate cranial wall. He was already manually running protocols to keep him online, conscious, and the world was growing smaller with each passing klik. “Have Starscream redirect our attentions to relieving Devastator before they separate them.” When he turns his optics flicker and there’s a heat leaking down his spinal cord, frayed wires screaming. “I want our remaining guns on…

The bridge doors open with a screech of twisting metal as the Nemesis struggles to maintain even basic functions. Starscream steps through, one limb cradled against a cracked cockpit, and Megatron denies himself the relief thinking to the Seeker crushed in Superion’s fist.

There’s a streak of bright pink smeared down his mouth and scorch marks across once glistening wings. He’s as mutilated as the Decepticon cause.

“We’ve been boarded!” Came the screech and lockdown protocols whirled to life...as the systems crashed with a strangled cry. Soundwave hummed in resentment. “It’s Wreckers!”

“What are they doing?” Megatron snarls and moves too quickly that the fractured helm sends him stumbling into a console. He does notice how both Starscream and Soundwave move to aid him.

“Oh, can’t imagine.” There’s a searing explosion floors beneath them, causing the ship to quake under pedes. “Wrecking perhaps?” He gripes and holds to the unresponsive door frame as the ship turns further inward.

“Virus intrusion?” Soundwave questions, likely due to their inability to regain control of the engines. 

“They opened a slagging warp gate inside! We’re on borrowed time before this whole thing drops to the surface like dead weight.” Red optics seek out Megatron who struggles to focus, his internal alarms going off for more than unstable ground. Codes stream past his processors, begging for stasis mode so that he might begin to recover. He ignores them all. “We have to retreat!” Another explosion, this time much closer. A shrill shriek of panic from the system’s remaining intelligence, they’re losing ground and time.

“No.” He repeats and watches Starscream’s denta reveal themselves in the sneer of disbelief. “We will not retreat. We will not run.”

“We’re already down half our forces!” The Seeker reminds him, daring to step forward on the tilting grounds, activating turbines to keep him steady. “If we stay you’re killing us all!”

“Then we die with honor!”

“We’ll die for nothing!” The venom is Starscream’s voice was not enough to break through Megatron’s resolve and he swatted the flier back. Keeping a servo on the nearest console while the world shifted. “We never anticipated this form of attack from the Autobots, a mistake on our part. But they’ve caught us spread across our territories without a plan of escape. This CANNOT be our final stand. I won’t allow it!” There’s a moment between them, snarling and vicious faces while their surroundings burned. The only soldier who would openly defy Megatron now trying to keep the warlord alive just to spare himself, using long forgotten terms of dedication as his excuse. How quaint.

How late he was.

“Flee if you must.” Megatron proclaims while another charge rocks the ship and he knows their time is up. His words are slow. Easy to follow even for the bitter Seeker, but he will not stop Starscream from trying to survive. It’s what the other did best after all: regardless of who he left behind. “But if you flee now, all this time with us, with me, what good was it for? Running like a coward when you could fight like a Decepticon.” He pauses, his optics show him two Starscreams with the same resigned expression. “Make the end of your time mean something.”

…

Starscream leads them through the corridors of the rolling ship towards Shockwave’s old lab, away from the path of the Wreckers. He announces there’s an escape pod there he believes can be wired to drop, allowing the three the chance to leave the ship and enter the fray with the advantage of surprise. Soundwave questions him on this plan and Megatron watches Starscream’s face churn with discomfort as their telepath and he share a quiet conversation. There was too much on Megatron’s mind to care for what bickering was likely happening between them. He at least could trust Soundwave to alert him should the Seeker have any ideas of leaving (or kicking them out the airlock they were now planning to open while the ship began its crash course.) For now he could only focus on the continuous eruptions of chaos outside, the impending death they now faced. Perhaps he could leave a deep scar on Optimus Prime that no medic could weld over before he goes? Wouldn’t that be a thrilling end.

A gladiator’s last stand, poetic.

Shockwave’s lab is a deserted mess, long since abandoned for whatever outpost the scientist felt suited him better. Large glass cases of unknown contents floated in disturbed pieces through the attack. Scattered materials and overturned tables made the entrance a hostile environment as Starscream warned them not to touch anything. Rare he should be so concerned. It took little time for Soundwave to secure power to the old pod, double doors revealing themselves from behind later added shielding. While his third in command moved to try to gain access the pod itself, Starscream pulled Megatron to the doors, wanting to take a look at his injury.

“Not now.” He huffed and kept the Seeker at bay, now feeling the vibrations of war that the walls were down. Nothing more than a fragile pod between them and their inevitable demise. A crime Starscream would not stop flinching.

Anothing detonation sends the unprepared Seeker stumbling, Megatron’s servo coming to steady him beneath a limb joint. He’s drawn closer, waiting for the after shock to calm and he can feel Starscream’s wing scrap his torso, closer than they have been without a battle between them.

“Don’t get touchy now!” The Seeker snaps as Megatron feels a tremor run down the other’s form. “I’ll still gladly kill you before Prime has a chance.” A few mumbled words of Megatron’s stupidity, his uselessness and Starscream’s own poor choice in leaders. Then the universe goes quiet save for Starscream’s light pulse in his servo.

“A little late to complain.” Megatron adds and accepts the bitter look with a grin as he has accepted a great many things in so few moments. His reaction must have startled his Seeker as the look returned is one of disbelief, then strangely, exhaustion as the mech relaxes under his attention.

“I don’t plan on dying today.” The proud voice returns and that’s the Seeker he knows. The spiteful, arrogant and unkillable young jet standing chin-high in the hellish wreckage of Kaon’s battles. A playfulness they lost long ago returning with passing glances. An understanding that this may be their last moments. Like standing outside the Colosseum gates, waiting to be announced. Fight. Die for honor or live for victory.

“It’s fitting this happens while your mood has you at my side.” He means it, earnestly as the ship takes another great hit. Flashing lights cast the world red and the fickle Seeker sneers over his shoulder, likely seeing what’s taking Soundwave so long. “I’m sure you’re regretting that.”

“Do you have any regrets, my Lord?” So venomous but that was Starscream’s way, the small tremble of his wings to reveal his anxiety. Perhaps Starscream never expected to go out a hero for a cause. If only the Decepticons could have meant more.

“Regrets?” Megatron echoes. A lifetime of certain disappointments flood his processor. Times he wishes he were not so young -- so old. Moments lost and never regained. He draws a servo beneath Starscream’s helm, tilts until red and terrible optics outshine the chaos. There was a time he once thought this Seeker was a certain sign of greater things. His quick rise through ranks, the obedience and pride which came with such a graceful demon wearing /his/ insignia. “Not one.” He lies.

Outside the ship their hopes wither away at the sound of cannon-fire and rallying Autobots...but there’s a moment for this. For them. For Megatron to nod downwards to his Seeker, his Second in Command, and try with what little experience he has to acknowledge the other with devoted attention. “I am glad you are here.”

Starscream’s claws cut into the underside of his collar, dragging Megatron down to meet the smaller height before a smart mouth scraps against his. A kiss, most vicious and unexpected, plays on that Megatron does not (cannot) react nor consider reason. He allows it because he is unable to fight it, the eager bite of a hungry Seeker, crooked against his mouth. The brittle pain of sharp claws digging deep beneath the armor, keeping him locked in this place where he would not have dared consider to tread. Starscream kisses as he battles: to scar and obliterate.

It is both idyllic and tragic, knowing how much they have wasted. That the kiss is over before Megatron has a chance to hold him in return.

“I promise,” Voice quiet and controlled as Starscream holds his mouth still to Megatron’s. So unlike the Seeker, a warming exhale brushing the warlord’s face while he is both gentle and still. Something clicks into Megatron’s mind, warning alarms of impending danger with nothing to do with the crumbling ship. “I will always regret so much more than you.”

Radiant and sudden pain as a null ray charge discharges past Megatron’s armor, the only shielding he had against the Seeker’s treacherous weapons. Thoughts swiftly change to Soundwave, still present, while his body begins a lockdown - survival protocols spinning in alarming rates. Already so weak, there’s little chance of overcoming this attack.

He does not crumble to the floor but is instead lowered carefully as his optics begin to waver. Starscream stares down at him, face wrinkled in malfunctioning sight. He feels the Seeker’s hands guiding him carefully downward but that fleeting sensation soon leaves him, empty shell save for what desperate clutching grasp he makes to consciousness.

Soundwave’s form joins him, staring over his failing body, and does not aid.

_Traitors._

“Soundwave, open a broad communication, make certain the Autobots can intercept.” Megatron thinks on the kiss, clearly one of Starscream’s more deplorable tactics. He should have known his end would be poisoned by that serpent’s mouth.

And the world goes dark.

_“Attention my fellow Decepticons”_

He indeed lied to Starscream.

_“Megatron has succumbed to his grievous injuries -- I repeat -- Lord Megatron has fallen!”_

There’s one regret.

_“I, Starscream, have assumed command of the Decepticons!”_

And that is allowing Starscream the chance to see the end of this war.

…

_Dark._

_Crackle._

_Halves united and then split apart._

_Ache._

Nothingness swelling inside a vacuum of warmth. He hears a shrill sound of a fledgling’s cry and cannot pinpoint the location. There is a weeping. A starved laughter. Some greater being is telling of his fate and Megatron's focus refuses to seek out the location. He might scream across the stars, wage war in this darkness, but there is no enemy to fight but himself.

…

When he wakes the world is numb. Empty. Cold. Unmoving limbs and cautious panic floods his processor. Optics wont online, too starved. Nearing a crash and full system failure. There are voices vaguely reaching out to him from beyond the dark and pain. Unfamiliar and sharp. They ask their questions in languages the warlord does speak, but is too weak to comprehend. They repeat themselves, a touch frantic. Frustration seeping through tone, but it matters little. Megatron would prefer not to answer them now. He is an emperor, he does not bow to the demands of voices in the darkness.

Quiet again. Slumber. Something calls out to him from that hushed place between nothing and all he had. Something is looking for him and Megatron would draw his weapon if he had the strength. It cries out and across the universe Megatron sees the waves of its voice scanning galaxies like some great serpent hunting.

Megatron will wait for it to find him.

...

There’s a foreign substance in his systems keeping him still, thick and dripping into open fuel lines as it numbs limbs without damage. Finally awake Megatron pulls against the heavy weight of dampeners and finds he can only twitch a servo at best. But it feels far away, his strength a useless weapon against him.

What did he last see? What did he last hear?

 _“I, Starscream…”_ That slagging bitch.

Someone is calling for a Captain and Megatron sure hopes they do. Let whatever Captain of this situation come face him, explain to him why he cannot move and perhaps where the nearest Seeker is so he might throttle him until the screaming stops.

His internal chronometer is malfunctioning along with so many other systems, he ignores it. Subverts power from the struggling and inaccurate system to more important things. Optics. Online. Turn. On. Slaggit. Turn on! He can see, flickering and weary. His surroundings in a haze while dark shapes move about, startled. Good. They should be.

“Uh. Sir?” A small voice to his right. “He’s...he’s online!”

“Impossible!” A gruff voice, the swoosh of closing doors before him. Trapped in this small room now cramped with onlookers. He can see better shapes now, bulky builds in dark colors. No insignia. Neither Decepticon nor Autobot. How did he end up with Neutrals? Was Starscream even this cruel? How could Soundwave permit this. Oh. Soundwave. Another to end. Betrayed by the one who should not hold the capacity to do such a thing. He’d allowed Starscream to slither out of similar troubles before, but not again. When he found that damned Seeker…

Something feels empty, crushing starvation. His spark flickers and surges in desperation before he can control it - somewhere out of sight a monitor shrills.

“Good morning.” A face comes into view, something cheap and wired to appear intimidating but lacked a certain...war heavy certainty about it. Weak, Megatron decided in a moment. Weak. “Welcome back to the land of the living, my liege.” A crescendo of giggles from unseen voices, mocking and small. Small enough to be crushed. Good. His patience with this scenario has already been spent. His internal scans alerted him to many defects, damages sustained in battle never healed. Damage from prolonged stasis (how long?) and now a flooding neutralizing agent in his streams. It would offline a weaker mech, but Megatron was no such thing. He began immediately working on regaining control of himself, programs installed (against regulation and Shockwave’s warnings) kicking into gear after a long slumber.

His clock says he’s been still for an obscene amount of time. Clearly broken. Add it to the list.

A whistling call above. The cheap-frame neutral hovering too close.

“Never thought I’d see the day. Risen from the Pit it seems. Can’t believe it.” Risen---What did Starscream do?

“The honor is all yours.” Megatron revels in the look of surprise on his newest enemy’s face. Crawling scum of the universe believing he can lock him down.

“Wrangle, you sure this is him?”

“Yea, I thought Megatron died like...a while ago.”

“I don’t die so easily, you’ll notice.” Megatron interrupts, never one to tolerate being spoken over as if a lesser being in the room. They are Cybertronian, but his captors are strange. His scans do little to process their alignment (missing data) or external coding (missing data). The room in which they hold him is strange as well. It should seem outdated. Touches of age - of poorly repaired consoles and quick patches across the walls - are easily noticed. But there is technology he does not recognize. Things he feels are familiar but advanced despite their wayward state on an old, yet new, ship.

Their “Captain” gives a cocky smile, steps around to tug on something attached to Megatron’s helm and there’s a blinding rush of pain followed by determination that he will wretch this cretin’s optics from their sockets.

“No. It appears not. Even when the universe has been celebrating your death for nearly one million stellar-cycles.”

One million...

The neutral keeps his grin while Megatron struggles to process.

_I, Starscream…_

One million....

"Captain. I don't think...he knew that." 

_"I will always regret so much more than you.”_

He’s going to kill that rat.

…

The crew seems open to discussing their plans now that Megatron has gone silent. He only unnerves a younger bot, twitchy and restless, who keeps looking over at him with doubt that the restraints will hold. He’s punished often for the fidgeting and smacked about when it gets too annoying. Megatron cannot say it’s not a familiar sight. Starscream’s paranoia was answered to by much the same treatment despite it having kept the Seeker alive through even the worst of battles. Considering how his life is currently playing out, that cowardly instinct has certainly done a number on the universe.

Apparently he’s spent the past one million stellar-cycles in deep space, lost to all known tracking as no one would ever have thought to search for Lord Megatron in an escape pod, frozen, with no emergency protocols to seek help. His injuries before the deep sleep in combination with Starscream’s null ray blast was enough to send his entire system into full reboot - which was still underway when the traitors put him into a forced stasis. Simply put, he was half dead this entire time with no way of calling for help even in slumber. The thought crawls his sensors.

This wretched crew picked him up as they took a wide route to circumnavigate the well patrolled trade routes between New-Cybertron and their allies. Not wanting to be caught with illegal trade, it was by mere luck that this ratted group found him at all.

He was missing his insignia and all bonds to Decepticon allegiances had been wiped from his CP. The only reason these miscreants had known who or what he was had been due to the remnants of modification to his arm. The fusion cannon, lost likely to Starscream’s scheming, had been one of a kind. Specially fitted to Megatron and only Megatron.Residual data of the lost connection like a pet’s tag left forgotten in his code.

He’d been stripped of rank, of voice, and was buried among the stars to be forgotten and never missed. An odic treachery by his second.

The moment his Seeker had kissed him, had crossed that line, he should have known something wasn’t right. Should have killed him right then rather than allowed millions of years tempted by the brat to distracted him. Really, Megatron sourly knows he has no one to blame but himself. Trusting the tender moment as anything more than a trick...but blaming Starscream was a long-known comfort and oh so familiar.

They mention Cybertron infrequently. Only brief notes of New-Iacon. Of the rebuilding of security towers under the council’s directive. No one mentions Prime and that infuriates him. The idea of Prime perishing in whatever the fall of the Decepticons looked like, that he was not the mech to do it...Already so much taken from him, Megatron’s anger overrides the dampeners enough that he can clench a fist. No one notices.

Mostly the crew leaves him in the dark, little more than his thoughts to occupy time. Try and force repair through sluggish and unresponsive procedures. At times the Captain stops in to gloat, talk about his youth spent avoiding the catastrophic war lead by Autobots and Decepticons. How he can’t believe the weak old slag helpless in his presence is the Great and Terrible Megatron. His bragging only secures Megatron’s decision to eviscerate him off the face of existence. There would be nothing left of the boasting Captain or his soldiers. He plans silently, observes and drinks in what information they allow to slip over the orbital-cycles he suffers in their company. Locked in the small room, a useless pile of barely living scrap.

Their plan is uninspired, dangling news of Megatron’s reappearance through illegal channels hoping for a loaded bite. So many, they say, have had their lives ruined by Megatron. They expect a great price for him, but have to be careful. Cybertron won’t pay. They’re hoping for a bitter rival to still be alive, perhaps someone ousted from their rich home by Megatron’s war that wants personal revenge. He doesn’t engage the lessers in conversation unless he has to, they weaken his energon supply if he’s “Uncooperative” and he needs the fuel. He can almost feel up to an elbow joint.

...

The Decepticons are in ruins. His main officers either dead or missing. The twitchy mech he’s come to know as Jawbolt tells him too much when it’s his rotation to check on the restraints.

 _“That sneak Soundwave was imprisoned. Probably offline.”_ Megatron feels only slightly bitter on that, lost the chance to demand explanation from his former third commander for his treason. _“The constructicons, probably all offline. Some I know are working on Cybertron but those rough builds had a hard time integrating into the image for New-Cybertron.”_ As it was before. Lesser mechs considered unworthy. Was that not what his war had been intended to fix?

 _“Do you know of Starscream?_ ” He dares to ask one late cycle as his fearful, yet informative captor made the rounds and missed all signs that Megatron had one arm back under control.

 _“Oh!”_ Seems proud of himself for knowing. _“That mean red Seeker?”_ Apt description really. _“He was one of the first to be executed. I mean. When the war ended he was the Con’s leader and all. Not even the Neutrals voted for less. You don’t get life imprisonment for that.”_

No. They just kill you and wipe your name from history’s pages.

Megatron chooses not to engage in further conversation as he dwells on a feeling forgotten long ago. Endless mining tunnels like cages where freedom was a fleeting dream and loneliness reigned. He supposes Starscream did not make it to see the end of the war after all.

...

When he recharges he swears something is calling out. That great serpent tearing through the galaxy to find him. A dream of belonging, of mattering to something almost as severe as a nightmare. It swallows planets and suns searching for him. Swimming through countless distances clawing for his spark and Megatron stands at the edge of the universe waiting.

 _Come find me then_ he thinks, deep in the muddled delusion of dreaming, _I’m not hiding from you._ He feels bleeding eyes upon him one rest, his spark struggles not to claw out of its casing, reaching back into a dark universe. The serpent opens it's mouth wide, diving for him, long awaited. 

He does not remember these dreams by morning.

…

“You are about to make me a very, very wealthy mech.” The Captain makes a dramatic entrance, ensuring that he’s directly in Megatron’s line of sight as he flaunts whatever news he’s about to share. A few of his crew linger at the doorway, unsure or equally excited: there seems to be no consistency onboard. Jawbolt has a few new picking-order scars from where he clearly disagreed with his Captain and it brings up thoughts Megatron would rather not be having. “I have a buyer for you.” the Captain positively /sings/.

“Exciting.” They have diluted his energon supply and since his initial reboot have not done much to aid in his general well-being. Letting Megatron sit, locked in his chair on some grimy trader’s ship housing mercenaries and cowards, and do frag-all all this time.

“Don’t know what you did to this Alpha Lyrae fella, but he’s just pouring out the cold credits to get a chance to off you.” The pitiful attempt at startling him is rather boring, but Megatron does his best to remain focused on the bragging Captain. Making note of a “fashionably” crooked panel over his spark that would be all too easy to tear through. Squeeze his spark until the pitiful creature stopped moving. It’s a pleasant thought, one that brings both impatience and fury rising to the surface.

Something foreign presses back, deep into his spark. A silent comfort which calms him. He wonders, not for the first time. if these worms implanted him with some further devices for containment.

“I don’t think I know the name.” Honestly doesn’t, but it has a familiar ring to it. “But I’m sure he and I have a lot to discuss.”

“Well. You’ll get to meet him soon enough. Shouldn’t be more than a few solar cycles to get to Enigma 6,” There’s a restless chatter among the crew members, some pleased while one or two seem concerned. “It’s where the big ships went to die and honest-working space explorers such as myself gather.” Wrangle’s smile is just too much. Even when Starscream was boasting stupidly he at least had the decency to look good while doing it. This cretin really did think himself so powerful it took all Megatron’s willpower not to roll his optics.

“Can’t wait.”

…

The ship’s only (even somewhat) qualified medic did her best to get Megatron ready for transport as they changed course. He could feel something change, a held exhale among the crew as they each seemed to step into his holding room. Want to see him, perhaps one last time before he was to be handed over to this Alpha Lyrae. To see an old legend before his demise, it felt, but Megatron did not mind it. He’d memorized their designation and spark coding. Once he was free their gawking bodies would be hunted down and torn apart for the trouble.

Once he was free.

“Did you think you’d win?,” Strikespire was a tiny thing, half starved and functional by sheer force of will. As she worked on the floating holoscreen tracking his frozen functions she seemed distracted by her own thoughts. Enough that when he made any motion of listening that she flushed a furious gray to match her outer coating - tried to seem more in control of her curiosity.

“The war?” He pressed. “Do you think wars are often fought by mechs who assume they’ll lose?”

“No it’s just…” Voice trails, alerts rise from her device and she’s quick to fix them. Intelligent but limited. “My creator was a Decepticon.” Ah. Finally something of interest. “Low ranking grunt, mostly fought along the spectral breeches.”

“I’m sure your Kare was an honorable soldier.”

“Well that’s just it. They said the Decepticons were supposed to be this force for good. That they joined so...so low-caste like them could have a chance but…”

“But. What?”

“Kare said when they joined, it was all just murderers and criminals riding a chaos wave. That your cause was just violence. The femme’s system read outs could detect the stress in his mind, his spark flaring with irritation. The foreign intrusion presses calmly on his spark once more, Megatron fights it off “So I guess. Did you think you’d win and there would be peace? It just doesn’t seem like, you cared about that at all.”

…

Enigma 6 was not a shipyard of broken old crafts.

Enigma 6 was a colony. Forged together with the broken corpses of old war ships, Cybertronian and alien alike, gathered in the void of space and anchored to an asteroid. A monstrous calamity of malfitting parts with trading ships flickering in and out of it’s ports like Earth flies on a corpse. A breathing, functioning colony stitched together from broken pieces of history and Megatron stared in wonder as they landed on the behemoth. Cuffed and weakened by what Strikespire had been concocting to keep him pliant and slow. The Captain had ordered a cloth cloak to be placed across Megatron’s broad shoulders with a hood to hide his identity. They eased off the dampeners and told him to rise.

Standing for the first time in so long was a humbling experience. The first taste of independence since Starscream’s final betrayal and there was no time to relish the feeling. The sensation of taking steps on one’s own power - commanding your body regardless how weakened or manipulated, was still a fraction of his pride returned.

Enigma 6 left little to the imagination of what sorts of community might be found on it’s graveyard surface. Cybertronians and organics alike of all sizes, shapes and sharp smiles all reaching out from their ramshackle huts and market fronts trying to sell useless wears to travelers. Above, the false atmosphere shimmered like pollution in dark water and distorted the ever-night sky with a hazy green hue. Made any organics eyes appear wide and hungry, even those who donned cybernetic parts meshed and woven into a variety of textured flesh. Looking like monsters as they passed in scavenged armor and stolen goods.

Horrid things.

Strikespire remained at Megatron’s side, scarcely as tall as his elbow joint, monitoring the inhibitors which were all that kept Megatron (besides thick chains around his wrists and arms) from swinging wide and breaking free. She paused only to direct foreign language, sharp and scathing, to any mechs who approached them, sufficiently shooing them off from their curiosity. Megatron thought briefly that she might have made an impressive Decepticon in the past, but now her purpose was to keep Megatron tame and under control and that was inexcusable.

Smaller ships flew too low overhead, transport drones and surveillance droids ducking too close as they passed. The group blending relatively unnoticed by most, a law of the unwanted : stick to your own business. Megatron knew that well enough. It was hovels like this where his recruitment efforts had fallen heavily on in later years. Finding those who were not welcome in established society and offering them something to fight for. It attracted a great many soldiers but so few of them understood the honor he could have gifted them. (He thinks on Strikespire’s words, her kare’s disappointment, and denies a rising thought in the back of his mind.)

Wrangle steps off to the side of the group for a moment, checking in with a vendor of decorative insignias and a variety of cosmetic optic lenses. Jawbolt tapped anxious patterns on his blaster, carefully holstered in his leg while the handful of crew members waited patiently and soundless. The five other mechs clearly trusting their Captain with this sensitive transaction. Megatron took this time to dwell on the name, _Alpha Lyrae_. It certainly held an air of superiority among Cybertronian names and was reminiscent of a few mechs Megatron personally would like to face again. If just for old times sake…

But as self-flattering as the designation seemed to be - the implications of importance all too clear - Megatron had no idea who the slag Alpha Lyrae could be. He’d killed plenty of haughty mechs in his time. Had overturned small planet leadership and watched societies crumble as the Decepticons sucked their resources dry...but Alpha Lyrae...what unmemorable worm was crawling out on its belly to purchase the “right” to end Megatron’s life.

“We got coordinates.” The Captain returns with a buzzing in his tone, carefully speaking with a beast of a crew member who’d said no more than two words to Megatron and had made little impression otherwise. He agreed and they pushed onward. Navigating through the overcrowded slums of society’s wretches as unobserved as possible with a hooded figure Megatron’s size. Eventually buildings grew further apart and there were fewer and fewer lifeforms skirting about the reconfigured crafts. Now it had become a graveyard of ships, likely still being tethered to the colony as a whole, where only gnarled and rough looking Cybertronians lingered. They rented a lift craft from a band of scavengers, claiming they would split any “findings” within the ships. Paid upfront and Strikespire warned Megatron not to try anything.

“New ships are being added constantly, and detached once they’re useless.” One of the crew made a joke about how that was like his ex. “Even if you managed to run off, there are very few places to go.”

“The great Megatron running away?” Wrangle laughed. “Can’t imagine what that would look like..” And they trudge on.

It takes the group a few megacycles to locate the broken ship where their trade was set to occur and Megatron had to stop himself from laughing (and expending precious energy.) Their travel through Enigma 6 and beyond had left him nearly depleted and it did not seem in the crew’s thoughts to bring additional fueling for him. Unsurprising.

 _The Black Meridian_ was hardly a flagship by Decepticon standards, but it had been once known as the Crowned Zenith . A Senate’s ship meant for fast travel for interplanetary missions. It was taken from their control within the first few thousand years of the war, renamed and had made a beautiful addition to Megatron’s then growing forces. One of their first captured ships capable of covering great distances. Starscream had initially coveted the ship for his own command, though too young in the growing army ranks to deserve any preferential treatment. He threw a fit not getting his way. The ship itself had been long forgotten to Megatron and only seeing it here, half scorched and broken into thirds, did he feel this all could still be some sick dream. Being forced to face his failures. That he was still trapped in forced stasis floating endless across the stars.

The sharp point of a blaster at his spinal strut reminded him that he did not often dream.

The group maneuvered their way through the broken ship, Megatron catching himself following phantoms of memory chasing one another through the bent and ruined corridors. Recalling standing at the bridge with his most elite trying to hide their giddy excitement at their conquest. Watching Soundwave rewire the navigational system (and lights so they were purple) while Skywarp had come bursting through the doors to announce he’d _“FOUND A MINI BAR”_ much to Megatron's chagrin (and Starscream struggling not to sneak off and join his trine in celebration).

Starscream again. Thoughts always flickering back to Starscream. A parasite in his processors but impossible to ignore. The Seeker had been there since the beginning hadn’t he? Always there. A sharp red figure in the corner of his view, ever present. While Soundwave had been pledged to Megatron alone, Shockwave loyal to what the Decepticons could offer...Starscream had been a treacherous scoundrel with no sense of duty to anyone but himself...and the Decepticon cause.

One million years ago as the end was near and Megatron had wanted to let it die with honor. He should have expected Starscream to _refuse_ to let it die at all.

“Sit down. There. We’re early.”

Wrangle has them wait in a common area between decks, as directed by his intel. Wide, open space where the various hallways all joined together in a round shape. There was a broken door where Megatron recalled Rumble (or Frenzy) trying to hotwire the locks to keep Hook from exacting revenge from whatever prank the cassette had played. One deck over he knew there would be a broken wall as Ramjet got overcharged and tried to jump on his brother. It was no wonder Megatron had been eager to expand their naval power, as it seemed his Decepticons were almost more capable of destroying their assets than the Autobots. _“You should have given the Meridian to me,”_ The echo of Starscream’s mocking voice was all too clear in the hollow ghosts of the ship.

They wait. Megatron is seated center the room on stacked rubble like a vendor’s palette. Watching the crew pace about and annoy one another with the idle time. Jawbolt twitches. Strikespire keeps to herself and the Captain has his other subordinates run down a few hallways, just to see if there’s anything useful laying about. Megatron remains quiet, not wanting to ruin the tension the group is building among themselves. Entertaining himself with the sight of worry slowly gracing their faces as the time draws nearer. Thinking briefly on how easy it would be to ambush the loitering group in such an open space. They hadn’t even bothered to control a perimeter or set up a warning system on approaching crafts or mechs. Truly amateurs playing rogues. If Megatron had struck such a deal, this would be the perfect spot to simply...

_Oh._

_Oh. Interesting._

There’s a flicker of something in his spark, the same strange sensation he’s suffered these past decacycles with the half-formed crew. Clamps it down, still unsure of its origins but doesn’t want to give away his thoughts in case Strikespire is monitoring his thoughts by some advanced technology. Best not to show his hand just yet, but if this _Alpha Lyrae_ was half as determined to get Megatron as it seemed...and the promised credits were truly “too good to be true” as Wrangle had monologue previously…

Someone sends an open communicae and Wrangle answers, sickly excited tone as he reassures whomever is on the line that they are in the agreed upon location and yes, they will see him soon.

“It’s almost over, _my liege_.” His smile is becoming most annoying as the Captain looks over Megatron with mocking admiration. “I’m sure this Lyrae fellow will take good care of you.”

“And I hope he takes, good care of you too.” Megatron agrees and lets the mechs wonder over the confidence of his tone.

It doesn’t take too long for there to be a knock on the southern facing door, a few of Wrangle’s crewmates squeezing their weapons in surprise, but calmed by a dismissive wave by their Captain who sends Jawbolt to approach and allow their buyer entrance.

Megatron wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

Chaos, initially, but even the sudden death of /one/ of his captors would have been nice.

Unfortunately it was not the ambush Megatron had wanted as a figure entered the room, taking in their settings with a tilt to a masked face.

They were cloaked as well, but Cybertronian judging by the smallest vibration of mechanisms as they moved, servos high in a truce. Megatron could not see their face past the dark malformed mask, or their body as it was hidden beneath intricate sheets of linked dark metal which chimed and swayed with each movement. Hunched spinal structure, no visible weapons and Wrangle approached them with a nod.

“You Lyrae?” He asked as the figure’s attention fell straight onto Megatron. “Hey, talking here. Hello?”

“Negative.” The tone was mechanized, but light. Shrill and almost painful to the receptors as the buyer still did not look away from him. There was a glass visor across the mask, pinpricks of red light shining beneath and bore into the former warlord with a weight of expectancy Megatron had not expected. “I am Belfry.” Short, clipped sentences, introducing them-self and cautiously lowering arms. “I wish to. Verify.”

“Verify what? We sent you the coding!” Wrangle growled and Megatron might have corrected him not to get so worked out, after all, transactions as delicate as these took patience. But he also was hoping the Captain would piss off this buyer and get shot right through the optic. A disappointing end, but Megatron was tired of hearing his vocalizer.

“Great Alpha Lyrae has. Singular means. Of. Verification.” The caped mech turned then to Wrangle, mask tilting downwards. “You will. Be. Paid. One simple. Check. Must touch.” A servo rose again and this time Megatron could see sharp black claws flexing, as if to prove they were up to no tricks. “Brief examination. Then. Much credits. So happy. Crew happy.” A whirl of noise comes from beneath the mask like a mangled note of music which sends Strikespire frowning as Wrangle looked to her for recommendation. Her lack of expertise in more than keeping a mech off the steps of death clearly on display.

“Should be...fine.” She reassures so as not to lose face. “Let him. We know it’s Megatron.”

“Good. Girl.” The figure, Belfry, bows at the waist and the light humming continues as they approach. Megatron remains still, letting the unknown entity remove the hood from his helm, a sharp intake as it sees the cranial damage remained untended to for...well...a million stellar-cycles. “You hurt?” Belfry asks and Strikespire shakes her head.

“No. We found him this way.”

“You did not. Repair.”

“I kept him alive.” She defends and takes a step away from the mech barely taller than herself. Clearly uncomfortable with their presence.

“Come. Here Megatron.” The dark servos reach up and the warlord stills himself as claws begin to examine his chest plate. “Hn.” Something stings as Belfry dips sharp digits beneath the collar of his armor, seeking something not previously noticed until stroked. Three long, thin scratches hidden beneath the plating.

Where Starscream had clawed him down for a kiss.

The cloaked mech’s eyes light up behind the mask in confirmation.

 **_On the third chime, hit the deck._ ** A voice, unlike the shrill sound of Belfry, floods his thoughts. An intrusion not welcome, but also curious. Megatron does not react past a slow snarl and his examiner nods and tries to shake a distant thought of familiarity.

“Is Megatron.” Belfry confirms

“See.” Wrangle scoffs and there were relaxing bodies in the room. Confident and careless, distracted from Megatron’s slow motions to lower his bent form, ready to move. “Now. Payment. I don’t have all day and that old wreck is running low on fuel. Do you know how hard it is to get war-grade energon now-a-days? We should be paid extra for the trouble.”

“Much pay.” The mech nods and with their back turned to Megatron he sees only the mech lift a servo and a small hologram appears. Rushing code confined to a rectangular shape, credit transfers. Wrangle gives a noise of excitement and moves over, standing before the cloaked figure, mimicking their actions to bring up his own hologram screen, matching the numbers and a thin bar of the same light connects and they begin the transaction. “Real glad your lot contacted me first. Was getting worried that Iacon might have caught wind of this.”

“Yes.” The screens began their final downloads, three beeps until the end. **One**. “It would be shame.” **Two**. “If we had to kill more geeks to get him.”

“What?”

**Three.**

Megatron drops just as the screens erupt in a violent light, blinding both optic nerves and radial sensors. His systems scream but not as loud as the sudden onslaught of noise. A gatling cannon unleashing a crimson spray of searing heat across the unseen bodies of his captors, deafening roar of gunfire and agonizing cries as Megatron feels his systems try to crash just as a dark servo squeezes his own.

“This is so good don’t you think?!” A giggling voice, the same from inside his mind, and Megatron allows himself to be pulled: standing in the open gunfire that seems to miss their two forms entirely. Belfry making no sign of concern that they might be struck and dragging the sluggish warlord by the arm out a side door as chaos grows distant behind them. “Let’s go big guy!” The cloaked buyer pulls him along with an astounding knowledge of the ship’s innerworkings, which pathways were crumbled...which lead to an adjoining battered ship...stopping Megatron when the heavier mech’s systems grew too hot with exhaustion and allowed him to pause briefly.

“Ah c’mon I thought you’d be tougher than this!” The mask faces him as Belfry began shrugging off their cloak of chainmail, letting it drop unceremoniously to the ground as they continue to giggle to the far off sounds of weapons slowing to silence. “We didn’t even get to the safe zone. You gonna live?” The mask drops and Megatron finds himself stilled.

A Seeker’s form greets him. Young but glossy, better maintained than the rabble he’d spent the pat orbital-cycle with. Coating of his frame a pale violet tint over a mirrored finish reflecting Megatron’s sorry state. His wide and suspecting optics looking back at him as the Seeker raises bright wings to a more comfortable height, shaking himself free of whatever discomfort hiding beneath the cloak must have been.

“Who are you?” He demands of Belfry who has yet to make any move of restraining Megatron or offering further aid.

“Skycrux is the real designation. You can call me Crux.” An optic flickers in a wink, bright red flashing with a smile. Looking entirely too proud of himself. “And you’re welcome for the rescue your highness. Though. Once Lyrae has you, I don’t know if you’re gonna think it’s a rescue. He’s in a bad mood today.” They stare at one another in the gutted ship, the sounds of weapons having stopped and Megatron - while weak - still has not surrendered to his eventual escape. "So if you could just follow me.."

So. Alpha Lyrae is real. And really wants him.

_Fine._

The Seeker is too young, still learning, so it’s easy to throw him off balance with a hard shove using balled servos as a bludgeon. A sharp cry of pain and surprise echo in the decrepit halls and Megatron regrets the expenditure of energy by the ringing alarms warning of a crash. Manual override. Must keep going. He hasn’t the strength for a full battle now, a bitter acknowledgement as he’s quick despite his weighed form. (The inhibitors likely offline once the attack began, if Strikespire was offlined and her portable command was destroyed.) But half starved and sustaining old injury were not benefits to his escape. He finds a path down the second ship they’ve entered, hearing a low squawk behind him as the Seeker likely is recovering. He knows intimately well how fast they can be and decisive evasion and finding cover is his best opiton, trying to outrun would be foolish.

Megatron burns through the vapors of energy still running in his tanks to begins a mad dash through open corridors and smashing through overturned support beams to lower ceiling hallways where a Seeker might not fly.

 _Alpha Lyrae._ The name pulses in his very spark. A fretting sensation curling past his thoughts. _Alpha Lyrae. Alpha Lyrae._

On Earth, Starscream had found the fleshlings to be irritations at best, but he had an obvious affinity for their love of stars. The graceful names and ancient myths their primitive culture had arranged for such things. He liked breaking into Earthling observatories, stealing their work and comparing it to his own. Correcting and merging what the Earth scientists had decided with what Cybertronians _knew_.

_Alpha Lyrae._

_“It’s not even their northern navigational star.”_ Megatron observed as his second had swatted servos away from the console where Starscream had been rearranging their own charts, integrating Earth’s designations.

 _“But it will be.”_ Starscream seemed utterly delighted at the mere thought of humans switching their worship from one point to the next, always charmed by stories of usurpers. _“You’ll see.”_ His smile terrible and enchanting all the same as Megatron sat back in his throne, allowing the Seeker full run of the bridge’s holoprojections for his star-mapping.

A tight bond grips his spark like a clawed servo just reached in and gave it a squeeze.

“Vega! Get ‘em!” Megatron hadn’t noticed the proximity alert lag until it was too late, turning a corner and managing to dig his pedes into metal floors to avoid crashing into a second Seeker.

He used the term “Seeker” lightly.

It was a brute. Nearly Megatron’s size with a Seeker’s base frame only bulky and wide where no Seeker would dare sacrifice sleek design. He’d not seen him in the dark, wide black wings and finish a shadowed matte in the lightless corridors, stepping out from his cover with red optics watching Megatron in approach. The sound of the first Seeker, Crux, could be heard landing behind but Megatron did not look. Distracted by this new enemy with wings brought high: sufficiently blocking Megatron’s route. The former warlord spotted an insignia across their expanse. A silver, four-point star glittering back in the dark.  
  
_Alpha Lyrae._

There’s a tap on his spinal strut, something gentle and non-threatening but Megatron turns with an acceptable fury ready to face an attack

Only to have that anger drain from him as quickly as what remnants of fuel he had left.

“Hello, my lord.” Starscream’s dark face grinned up at him. “It’s been _awhile_.”

Megatron is unable to move fast enough as behind him a nullray warms and fires.

 

\---

Unincluded in this first chapter is Crux warping in flashes of pulsing light to appear at Alpha Lyrae's side. The two Seekers look at the third, faces equally held in displeasure as Megatron crumbles to the ground. Skycrux raises servos in surrender, making a face similar to that of his creator when he did something stupid.

"Ok, but in my defense," The young Seeker defended before moving to the unconscious warlord. "He's very sneaky for a big boy." He quickly warps them out before Starscream can swat him in the head.

\---

 


	2. Vertigo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Still using TFA units of time though peppering in other variants as I just didn’t like how it read previously.  
> *Kare = Creator, Ser = Sire. (I only made these up because it felt unnatural writing as if one would refer to their father as “Donor”)  
> *A touch of IDW Megatron Origins in this one.  
> *Sorry for delay. Life is an inconsiderate distraction.
> 
>  And as always, please excuse any egregious grammatical errors and misspellings, I’m never one to edit past a general review.
> 
> You-all ready to read more of my bad warzone writing? Well here-we-Go! *star-swipe transition*

 

 

Starscream’s most wicked invention was arguably the null-ray cannons. Though at the time, Megatron had not seen them as the treacherous weapon they could be.

He’d been causing utter chaos on the freshly completed Nemesis. Stealing from Shockwave’s labs, scurrying away to hold up in lesser known alcoves in the labyrinth of the ship. Megatron soon realized that though it was his warship, only Soundwave and the ever-sneaky Starscream knew the layout entirely. Which only made itself more evident each time he had gotten lost and summoned one of the two to find him, under the guise of a meeting...of course.

“You are my _Air-Commander_ , not a scientist!” Megatron had roared during one of their many bickering matches whilst the Seeker only looked offended. Clutching armfuls of stolen equipment and materials while Shockwave threw a fit behind them, having caught the Seeker in the act.

“I can be both!” The other screeched and Megatron gave him a shake, having already scruffed the young jet and held him off his pedes once captured mid-escape. He was only ever thankful Skywarp’s destructive tendencies remained to chaos for humor’s sake and took rare more than a dark glare to put the purple seeker back in his place. Megatron couldn’t imagine dealing with a Starscream who could /warp/. “Just because you can’t fit more than one protocol in your head at one time doesn’t doom the rest of us.”

Shockwave took great offense on Megatron’s behalf, pushing under his lord’s arm just to lecture (mostly yell) at the Seeker who clearly had not given a slag about a word the scientist said. Megatron had half the mind to strangle them both, but instead waited for Starscream to finish /screaming/ “You’re halting progress!”  at them before commanding them to stop.

He then sent Shockwave away and told Starscream to show him “what progress looked like”. The Seeker glared the whole walk there and then was unable to do anything other than proudly show Megatron his secret labs. A dangerous path through the underbelly of the Nemesis, where Megatron even had issue fitting. The lab was a complete wreck. Wires strewn about, panels yanked from the ceiling to siphon energy (from the ship  and that would be another conversation/fight) while work benches had been clearly removed from the mess hall and hoarded away: half scorched or melted with little workable surface beneath the mess.

Anger raising in heat Megatron was about to scruff the jet once more and throw him in the brig for insubordination...but the red Seeker flitted his wings and revealed the weapons sitting neatly on twin docking ports as they charged. At the time, he thought Starscream was losing it and had given the other a long and harsh word about wasting resources...yet had failed to order the disassembly of his work. Whether frustration caused him to forget or his tendency to spoil the jet, Megatron was never sure and tried not to dwell on the later.

Had he known what sort of hell Starscream’s toys would bring him, he’d have ripped them from their docks, crushed them, and likely their inventor for all the future troubles.

Being struck at close range, unprotected from their effects, left Megatron grinding his denta and trying to burn off the cold of the forced shut down the rays initiated. Always an unpleasant sensation, the numb and empty panic coursing through your processor - unable to stop the rise of the electric agents as it pulsed through one’s frame. Having been the victim of such attack so many times now, Megatron was growing intimately familiar with the abrupt rage that followed once pieces came back online -- and how much it was going to hurt when he ripped those slagging weapons off Starscream’s arms.

“You’re lucky he was hobbled, or else he could have killed both of you.”

Starscream’s voice in the dark. Megatron kept his systems from alerting his unaware company that he’d awaken. Could feel a medical berth beneath his frame and while a great deal of pain from his injuries had dissipated: he was not in full repair. A starved tank had been filled and the throbbing agony of the exposed cranial surface had been seen to, at least by minimal efforts. Megatron had survived worse, but it was good to not feel as if one was swimming in their own body.

Somewhere, distant from his spark, was a whining of anxiety. Worry. Concern. He assumed it was a failing protocol on its last legs and tried to lock it out with no luck.

“He’s not what I expected.” A different voice. Low. Unknown. Not the mirrored-finish Seeker from before. Starscream’s gawking laugh ruined his concentration.

“And what did you expect?” Silence meets Starscream’s question then a sigh from his _former_ Air-Commander. _“_ Be more careful.” Was that, concern he heard in the devil’s tone? Must have broken something. “This is not a situation where you can be cocky. You don’t...can’t know him like I did. He’s rather---” Starscream goes quiet and Megatron listens for the reason. “Go.” A commander’s voice and there’s a following sound of protest from a deep vocalizer.

 _“_ I was just trying to---”

“We don’t make excuses.” Starscream cut him off with a sharp word and not three kliks pass before a door opens, closes, presumably leaving Megatron alone with the Seeker. Utter silence follows. Perhaps he miscalculated the sounds of two mechs leaving - but that seemed unlikely. He was weakened but not dead and whatever Starscream had done to repair him left Megatron feeling better than he had over the past orbits with that wreck of a mercenary crew. He held little concern for their gruesome end, even the young medic femme. There was no time in the world he left behind for gentle mercies and likely this Pit of a universe remained the same. Even these years later. If Starscream had survived the end of the war, Megatron was certain in no amount of time he’d be back, fighting for his life again.

Silence carries for too long and he dares to peer out through his optics, expecting Starscream to be lurking above him with a weapon of some sort. Ready to monologue and try to kill him as they had done for years before -- and to his surprise there was no seeker. No signs of the voices Megatron had clearly heard moments ago. Perhaps they both had left together and the damage to his head was more severe than already anticipated.

This would be the second time Megatron found himself in a strange ship. This one however lacked the inhibitors coursing through his system and Megatron was able to sit up from the bench, swing legs off the side til pedes reached the floor. A chilled medical office greeted him, clean and organized unlike the the haphazard mess of Hook’s old offices where abrupt amputations and scavenging corpses usually took place. It seemed too clean, brushed silver and gray, an observation drone clicking to life and gently floating towards him. A green light scanning his frame and behind the small machine - panels of glittering readouts breaking down his systems’ functions. No alarms had sounded at his movement so cautious he rose and noticed the wide tray on a second bench weighed with scorched metal from his frame. Megatron raised an arm to brush a servo down the back of his helm, feeling out the patchwork metal laced across the open injury which had greatly disabled him before -- he likely appeared as some junked heap now. Frame dented and worn, soldered back together by whatever medic had seen to him upon his /second/ capture.

Megatron was growing sick of two very distinct things. 1. Waking up in strange places. 2. Being shot by a fragging null ray.

There was energon in unusual containers stacked behind the bench he’d woken on, not cubes but capsule cells of bright energy. He took three and tried to subspace the items (able to use his arms for the first time in months) but found his mechanism had been disabled at some point which only increased Megatron’s irritation.

A plan. He needed to locate immediate threats and get ahead of them - Starscream being the top of that list. Megatron didn’t want to spare a thought for /why/ he’d been repaired by the seeker, left unsupervised and unbound. His first assumption was Starscream decided he wasn’t a danger any longer - and who knew what the demon had been up to these past stellar-cycles. The former air-commander might be a new shape of trouble all together.

 _“I promise, I will always regret so much more than you.”_ Megatron wanted to rip that vocalizer out of his throat. How could he think for even a moment that Starscream would not have found a way to slither out of death once more? Hearing the seeker had been put to death after the war’s end...he should have known better than to think his sneaky seeker would fall to an execution.

There were few items in the medical room to use as weapons, but Megatron took an instrument meant for carving and separating layered panels during extractions. It wasn’t a preferred style, this sneaking around, but without knowing the world he’d woken to, caution was best. His priority was to gather supplies, locate a weapon for defense, if possible: information on his current standing, and before escaping - kill Starscream in a brutal fashion. The rest could come later. Intricate strategies and long-term plans were secondary to the simple drive of surviving whatever intention the seeker had for him.

Megatron approached the door to exit, taking a moment to observe and listen for approaching company. An empty hallway, dark grays and strips of lighting along the walls. No signs of patrol or a winged demon from the pit screeching his way towards him. Megatron pushed forward and the observation drone knocked into his pauldron as he went. A short chirp and chime as it displayed warnings to Megatron on his state of being.

Megatron slugged it back into the room and forcefully closed the doors, feeling a sort of thrill able to move again without his processor trying to melt down.

As he moved down the hallway as quietly as a mech his size could, Megatron could feel engines rumbling beneath his pedes. The constant vibration, which once soothed his trouble thoughts on the Nemesis seemingly so long ago, was of concern knowing they were on the move from the wreck-yard colony of Enigma 6. There, at least, Megatron could find the means to blend. Collect himself and form an approach to the yet-accepted situation he found himself in. Places where scoundrels and merchants gathered were always places one could hide. Possibly regroup with any remaining Decepticons who might have rejected Starscream’s ascension to the throne.

Before he might have counted Soundwave among these but with his last memory of Starscream’s wicked mouth and Soundwave’s lack of action, he would have to assume the other was indeed dead or else commit to seeking a bitter and bloody reunion.

It didn’t take long for Megatron to come across a computer terminal in the quiet ship. Not much further from the medical facility lead to a round convergence of two other hallways and a lift. A small ship then, tighter corners and more accessible than the Nemesis had been where Soundwave hoarded any open systems to their command. It wasn’t even a locked console - easy to open basic schematics of the ship and give a quick scan in search of useful rooms. One floor away was a storage locker, likely guarded if Starscream maintained any sense. Top floor was the command center, avoid at all cost unless Megatron felt he had the chance to take the ship.

Then, abrupt and unsettling, like a heated needle pushing its way through his spark. He felt an invasion, similar to how it was before aboard the mercenary’s ship. The unwanted sensation of intrusion as a phantom exhale tickled sensors /inside/ his spark chamber. Megatron found himself shaken, wanting to purge at the foreign emotion like being strangled deep in his thoughts -- somewhere he could hear the burning of jet engines and clutched the terminal to keep standing while the world tried to shift and toss him off balance.

Something shifted behind him, a weighty shadow crawling over his proximity sensors.

Megatron held still for one moment before swinging wide with a curled fist. Smashing into something dense that let out a sharp noise of pain as Megatron’s fist came down hard on their faceplate. Pushing through the souring feeling that had just begun to withdraw from his spark, he rose to full height and managed to move fast enough and avoid a dark servo, poised to slash. Instead crashing into the terminal’s and shattering the weaker metal with an brittle /crunch/.

It was the brute seeker from before. The dark color absorbing what light surrounded them, no shine past the sudden red stare over a broader shoulder. Twin four point stars over each massive wing. His opponent shifted quickly to stand, still not quite Megatron’s height, but enough that it made an impression. No seeker had ever reached past mid-chest plate and here was this /angry/ looking thing facing Megatron down with all the confidence in the universe. Megatron had a sudden urge to smack the mech, instead of more violent reactions. Put him down and in his place.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around, falling apart like you are.” The voice, deep but young. Familiar. The same Starscream was addressing when Megatron woke.

“You should learn some respect,” The mech and he began to rotate, one pede after the next, slowly shifting their bodies in preparation for attack. An unfortunate circumstance as Megatron was unarmed for more than a tool but it felt very much like the gladiator battles of old. Unarmed, weakened, and more opponents thrown into the ring hoping you’ll fall. Those were the good days, the ones he missed most even at the height of war. Where brutal force and the simple determination not to die were all one needed to survive.

Perhaps a necessary brawl is what Megatron needed to feel like himself again. If he can’t control the circumstances of his current situation than perhaps he can beat the world back into submission. It was a familiar vein of thought…

“Alpha Lyrae has ordered you to return to the medical chambers.” The dark goliath of a seeker ordered, tone bitter as claws flexed in wait. It very much felt like a time when Starscream tried his best to overthrow Megatron, this instinctual circling of two beasts preparing for war. Megatron’s sneer turned to a smile, fuel system speeding with a heavy pulse.

“Alpha Lyrae can choke on his own tongue.” That was apparently the right thing to say as the seeker bared pointed denta and lead an attack without thought, rushing Megatron with another swipe of his claws. An inefficient use of strength, Megatron considered, rolling forward to catch the seeker’s chest plate over his shoulder, lurching upwards against the impact of metal and weight - hurling the broad mech across the room at the cost of his own balance. A knee slammed to the floor, catching himself by a sharp roll and quickly as he could, turning to face his opponent. The seeker hadn’t gone far, wing bent beneath his body and scrambling up once more to re-establish a threat. “If you’re not fast enough to land a strike you shouldn’t attack like you can.” Megatron gloated and the dark seeker once more lunged - quick temper: good to know - igniting thrusters at the last moment and trying to catch Megatron’s helm.

Starscream fought like this. Seekers fought like this. Quick. Sharp. Trying to disable their opponent with claws digging into optics, breaking delicate joints or moving fast enough to throw their opponent off guard. Megatron was rather familiar with how to fend off a seeker that he almost felt sorry for the mech.

He brought arms together like a shield above his head, letting the other’s weight and piercing claws catch sharp and painful into his gauntlet shielding. It hurt, feeling the pop of metal beneath dark claws as the seeker tried to rip off the reinforced steel, but Megatron shoved forward to push him off just enough that he could adjust his arms. Swing like a battering ram with clenched servos into the jet’s waist (the smallest and weakest point of a seeker.)

With a cry of pain the mech was sent flying to the side, crashing and rolling once across the small circular corridor. Megatron held his ground, deciding not to advance on the seeker as he might have for a killing blow while the mech once again struggled to untangle himself and rise. Wings fluttered in irritation and the dark body sat up - a pale blue fluid dripping from his mouth.

“You’re too big for that.” Megatron corrected, distracted now by the need to correct and almost play with this opponent instead of taking note of the warnings flashing around his processors. He shook fuel from his limbs where the other had punctured neat little marks deeper than the armor could take, noting that with the seeker’s greater strength his claws would likely work more like a vice than Starscream who just liked tearing and rendering. “Who taught you to fight? They should be shot.”

“Be quiet!” Megatron chuckled at the frustrated response, as easy as meddling with a fledgling’s confidence, picking the other apart. He could likely win this, scavenge for a weapon and... instead of charging the dark seeker shifted to kneel and raise an arm in a similar pose. The way Starscream would unleash a blast from mounted cannons, but there was no visible weapon on his arms.

A shape flickered to life, brought from a subspace compartment and somehow collected together, perfectly set onto the mech’s body.

The fusion cannon now aimed at Megatron’s waiting form was a familiar sight. Particles gathering in pin pricks of light. Drawing in to the barrel as the weapon charged, casting the dark metal of the seeker a terrible violet. /His/ fusion cannon - manipulated and strapped to this jet’s arm, twice the width of his frame - aimed at /him/.

He recalls Starscream presenting him the weapon so many stellar-cycles ago. The perfect fit, the instant cohesion of weaponry and might. His fearsome weapon which brought the planets and stars to quiver. He thinks of Starscream smirking as no other could repair the weapon, his pride and joy when Megatron would break down and go to /him/ for attention. How he’d sit for hours as the seeker ran sharp claws - trained and delicate - through the weapon woven into Megatron’s own sense of self. How he could feel Starscream as though the jet were meddling deep within his frame.

His weapon. The only crown Megatron ever needed, gifted by a young jet who would one day be his greatest pride and largest regret.

What peace Megatron had found at battering the seeker around evaporated and in its place settled a furious, gnarled hatred.

“That,” He began, watching the charge build and the mech balance on his knee to control the weapon. “That does not belong to _you_.”

The other gave a pointed grin that made something in Megatron’s optics twitch. “Well it doesn’t belong to you.” Such pride in his tone that clearly had yet to be earned. “Now,” He struggled to stand under the weight, though larger - he was still a seeker frame and had not been reinforced to hold such a weapon. “You’re returning to the medical bay and when Alpha Lyrae arrives you’re going to behave.”

Fury or not, this brought an open laugh from Megatron - and startled the mech in return.

“Fledgling.” He mocked. “You forget who I am.”

“Some washed up old mech?” He tried to insult, but there was new focus in his optics. An awareness of every small advance Megatron made. Though he held the cannon up he had yet to fire, his instincts served him well but Megatron had to think less of him for the hesitation.

“I. Am Megatron. Lord of the Decepticons. And unlike you - you measly little sparkling carrying a weapon worth more than your paltry life! - I know something you don’t.” There was a flicker of doubt in red optics and briefly the brute of a seeker looked his age, even younger than Megatron had assumed, struggling to keep the cannon steady.

“What do you /think/ you know?”

Megatron stood silent, feeling that bitter creep of intrusion in his spark.

“I know that weapon cannot be fired within a spacecraft. Well. Unless you want everyone to die." 

Optics flashed in realization. The seeker immediately tried to power down but Megatron was already on him. Large servo clamping over the weapon as it choked in the built-up energy struggling to diffuse - the other snatching the seeker around the throat.

“Wait!” Vocalizer choked and the cannon burned hot beneath his touch, likely causing damage, but Megatron prepared to tear it from the jet’s arm.

“You shouldn’t have fought me child.” He squeezed and as if he were choking his own spark Megatron gasped in pain. A twisting shrill like barbs swam through his chest plate, dragging and ripping until his grip relaxed and the dark seeker pulled away with a look of fear as the fusion cannon flickered out of existence.

“What. Is. This?” Megatron snarled, demanding an answer, and the further the mech got across the open hall the less the pain echoed inside.

“It’s called you're an old mech.” A second voice crawled up his frame and poisoned his receptors. “And should leave children alone."

“Lyrae!” The jet called out and what bravado and pride he’d boasted earlier in their fight dissipated entirely. Looking more like a creature kicked by a disappointed owner.

“Vega. Get over here.” Megatron only turned to look as the dark seeker, Vega, moved past. Wings low with shame and stood by Starscream. He towered over the seeker who held no weapons on Megatron’s back or made any motion to render him unconscious again with a ray blast. The seekers only watched Megatron shake off the remnants of the sudden pain - facing the two with a curling mouth. Pure, seething hatred was his only processing emotion.

 

_“Do you have any regrets, my Lord?”_

 

_“I am glad you are here.”_

 

Starscream’s body had changed, who knows how many times over these past stellar-cycles, but Megatron would know that look anywhere. The sharp mouth and unamused eyes brimming with awaiting chaos, the softest curve of a pointed hip unable to hold at attention even when standing beside the Leader of the Decepticons. Starscream was no longer red and that was fuel to the fire of anger building, as though were Starscream red Megatron could handle this better. Keep his snarling disgust from distracting him from this reunion. Sleek forged body, polished black steel with intricate silver and gold patterns along the edges of each panel. Gold tipped claws resting crossed over an amber colored cockpit - all flash and gaudy design. Four point stars over the flat of regal wings. His dark faceplate remained the same. Lean, disappointed sneer-yet-smile Megatron had suffered for six million years, always watching and waiting to complain.

The brute seeker stepped behind Starscream, letting his broader wing brush Starscream’s and Megatron knew this now as a secret language of the jets. Comfort, or apology he didn’t know, but Starscream didn’t spare a glance for the larger mech now tucked behind him. Red burning optics only for Megatron.

“I’d almost forgotten how much trouble you were.” His former air-commander smiled.

“I could say the same of you.” Starscream did not move, no fight initiated. Vega, Megatron was sure he could take. Untrained and young. But Starscream was a creature of surprises and with limited options Megatron was not about to give the seeker brat a chance to take advantage of his unstable position. Already, something was notably wrong. This thing living in his spark - manipulated somehow by Starscream most likely. (But this had begun before, with the mercenaries. What is happening to him?)

“Is that any way to address your savior?” Starscream’s voice rose, mocking emotion, where Megatron could only blink in disbelief.

“My _savior?_!” Gaped as servos pulled tightly together and struggling to contain the desperate want to crush Starscream’s lying mouth under his pede. “You’ve always been too generous towards yourself, Starscream. But this is pathetic.”

The once-red seeker smiled as the other made a face.

“Don’t speak to him like--” Starscream turned his chin just _so_ and Vega was silenced. _Interesting._  Megatron observed and could tell Starscream was watching his optics shift between them.

“I’m sure you’re tired after waking from your little nap, but please refrain from killing my soldiers.”  Starscream approached and Vega made a motion as if to stop him only to freeze and withdraw, looking away. Megatron personally prepared to defend himself.

Instead, Starscream walked past him seemingly unafraid of Megatron’s wrath. Confident even as he began moving down the hallway where Megatron had just “escaped”.

“What are you doing?” He growled, feeling very much like the days when Starscream would prance around the Nemesis after being elevated to Megatron’s inner circle.

“In this moment, I am the only one you know in millions and millions of light years. In fact. I am the only one capable of answering any of your questions. So.” The seeker paused, turning back with gold claws extended in a motion for Megatron to follow. “The fact that you haven’t noticed your shoulder joint is detaching means you’re in far worse repair than I anticipated. And you can’t badger me with questions if you’re dead.”

Megatron looked to his shoulder, seeing only now that the joint had cracked at some point during the skirmish and his entire limb was slouching at a cruel angle. He didn’t feel the pain somehow and could still command the individual digits of his hand to move.

“And I should trust you?” He laughed at the suggestion but Starscream’s expression did not change. Half amused, half sealed away from the jet Megatron last saw as the world went dark. “Why?”

“Because you don’t really have a choice do you?” Helm tilts, daring Megatron to disagree with a glint in optics of knowing victory as the final edges of pain from his spark have faded.“Besides, wouldn’t I have killed you already if I wanted you dead? I had ample opportunity.”

“Sir,” Vega whined while Megatron only growled.

“Let’s make a deal.” Starscream ignored his bulkier companion. “You know I love deals so here’s a great one. You submit to treatment, and afterwards you can ask me any question under the stars. Once you're satisfied: I’ll give you your fusion cannon back and drop you off whereever you wish to go.”

“Sir!” The dark seeker took a step forward and the low hiss like decompression that flew from Starscream’s mouth startled even Megatron. Vega retracted, crossing arms over his cockpit of black glass and did his best to conceal the right limb.

“What do you say? We can talk, then you can leave. We never have to see one another again - or you can try to kill me. Up to you.” There’s a slippery charm to Starscream’s voice Megatron hasn’t forgotten. Though to him it was mere months since they last parted, he wonders how Starscream views him? A relic from a past life? For them, for Cybertron, one million stellar-cycles isn’t a lifetime but it’s enough to change. To forget who you once were. He wonders not for the first time what sort of creature this Starscream is before him. “We both know you’re confused and playing at mad dog here, but do you really have time to waste? I’m here, willing to help - as ridiculous as that sounds I know don’t comment.” He nods once more down the hallway. “Well?”

 

In all Megatron's many years of life, nothing is more upsetting than knowing Starscream was right.

 

…

 

Submitting to Starscream’s “medical care” was a humiliation Megatron willinging suffered.

Because against grinding denta and soured pride, the seeker was correct. There was no one else Megatron could demand answers to the multitude of questions churning inside his processor since his awakening. Bitterly, stubbornly, he returned to the medical bench, knowing from experience Starscream capable of basic maintenance on his body. Seekers were all trained in self-repair as a unit and it was useful in the Decepticon faction to have groups of somewhat knowledgeable soldiers in nearly every division. They were dexterous and clever things and more than once Starscream was closer to Megatron and a welding torch than Hook. It was not uncommon (a long time ago before a bitterness had stitched itself between them) for Megatron to seek out the jet for minor repairs instead of bothering their chief medical officer.

So now, having Starscream order him to sit back on the bench and agree to be subjected to who knew what sort of torture, Megatron could not imagine how he agreed to this.

“Watch yourself.” He warned as the seeker rolled optics and with a tool in one hand and the other raised Starscream neared.

“Oh, _kindly-Lord Megatron_. Might I approach to reattach your _powerful_ arm which is dangling off your body like a _l_ _imp_ \---?”

“Quiet.” He ignored Starscream’s grin and refocused on the fusion cannon sitting neatly on the opposite bench. The other seeker, Vega, had been reluctant to remove it from his arsenal but had not argued once Starscream ordered him. A petulant child but still obedient, it bothered Megatron how obedient really and a thought crossed his mind while the seeker began working on his joint. Would it be below Starscream to take a mate so young?

A sharp flicker of pain and he was bearing down a snarl at the now black and gold jet who held a look of almost disgust.

“You moved.”

“I. Did. Not.” Megatron corrected and allowed Starscream to fold back the panels of his pauldrons, slip cold claws beneath sensitive material and search out the cracked rotator. “Our truce is only going to last until I have the capacity and opportunity to kill you.” He spoke to distract from the sensation of deft hands smoothing across tangle plates.

“Right. Just like old times.” Starscream looked up, a thin-hooked tool held in his mouth and Megatron dimmed his optics at the casual approach the seeker was having to this. Up this close, he looked different beyond the cosmetic changes. Older. A foreign structure had reshaped Starscream’s entire personna. His voice slower, his movement still garish but with intention. Before, Starscream was chaotic in everything he did, but even in small ways Megatron could see the years between them had drawn closer.

It was the first time this hell seemed real. Difficult to imagine, all those years where the universe changed without him. His claim on the future of Cybertron, the Decepticons...taken away by a traitor’s kiss. The same wretched snake now repairing him as if nothing had occurred between them. As if it never mattered.

“Calm down.” Starscream chimed in, interrupting his thoughts. “I can feel you heating up, do us both a favor and stop.”

“This is all your doing,” He spoke up to remind the seeker of whose crime it was they were even in this position. “If you hadn’t…”

“You’d be dead!” A snap, a small brush of that old Starscream who wouldn’t tolerate this demure attitude he was faking. “If I hadn’t you’d be dead.”

“Don't pretend your actions were for my well-being. We were at war. Death is always a possibility.”

“Not like that.” Starscream frowned and seemed eager to refocus on his work just as soon as he spoke, ducking down to examine the exposed joint. “Just, stop talking we have plenty of time for that later.”

“How did you convince Soundwave to betray me?” Starscream remained quiet. “I’m speaking to you.”

“I noticed.” He huffed and turned to fetch a new tool. “This first, we can argue later.”

Megatron raised his remaining fist, slamming it into the bench with a resounding crack of metal. “DON’T turn your back on me! I trusted---” A wave of pain rolled from his helm down to his spark. Mixing agony with a frigid vice around his systems as all at once his body began the process of a forced shut down. 

“You idiot!” Starscream spun as Megatron found himself slouching forward and nearly off the bench, caught only by Starscream’s arms as the seeker tried to readjust the large mech. “What did I just say?!” An observation drone came flickering over, dropping stacked tendrils attached to a machine above them so Starscream could began attaching them to various points in Megatron's body. Claws slipping beneath armor and invading his anatomy while Megatron was unable to stop him. Optics flickering static as /something/ felt like it was tearing inside him.

Vents burned, tinted gray smoke exhaling from his frame, and Megatron tried to manually override the panicked sirens of warning beginning to overheat his body. Starscream was speaking to him, body now balanced on the bench alongside him and just past the seeker Megatron watched a great and terrible serpent wind its way around their position in a circle, finally having caught up to him.

…

He stands before a field of corpses all bearing his mark stretching back to a mountain range of brilliant white wings. Somewhere a snake encircles him, slowly twining and content as the earth beneath his pedes seep with bitter black. He steps forward, searching for anyone who remains. 

Vos burns before them and he watches seekers scream. Watches them claw at their own faces, the ground, even their allies as the silver towers fall.

Starscream made him promise to restore Vos. He promised. He failed.

 _“I am glad you are here.”_ He was, at the time. 

...

 

“You know, we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Megatron was awake, unsure if he had ever gone offline for any length of time. He was simply. Aware. Looking at Starscream whose expression appeared both irate and relieved at once.

There was something warm singing through his spark, nothing like the terrible pain from before or whatever Starscream had likely done to him, so he did not struggle against it. Unable to view comfort and Starscream’s actions in the same thought. He tried to move but dark servos came to stop him, urging him still and the lack of energy only reinforced his acceptance of the command.

“What have you done?” Asked with a weary voice, running diagnostics and not happy about being blocked out from half his system. “What is this?”

“I didn’t do this, first off.” Starscream was quick to deny and slid a servo rather tenderly to Megatron’s jaw, held his face still long enough that Megatron realized he’d been shaking it back and forth. “You’ve been in stasis for too many years and not once were you upgraded or seen to. It wasn’t cryo-it was paralysis. You’re quite literally decaying.” An unfamiliar gentleness presented itself that Megatron did not trust in the seeker. "The mercenaries kept you still, it delayed the eventual collapse, likely kept you from feeling it - or even realizing it. You didn't even know your arm was falling off."

“You did this to me.” Megatron couldn’t stop himself. Feeling powerless and out of place like a weapon stripped and tossed away by the very mech playing caretaker now. It was all too much.

“I know I did.”

That was not the response he expected.

“Then we are in agreement for once.” Starscream smiled briefly, but the old gladiator found himself relaxed by it. Or perhaps too exhausted to struggle. “I set aside my desire to kill you in exchange for answers.” Air intake was slow, weary skittering breath as Starscream checked a nearby monitor chirping away with numbers and swirling lines. “You leave me to die, then call yourself my savior - it’s been less than a year for me Starscream. I have no inclination to trust you.”

The seeker agreed, a nod without optics to greet him. He seemed somber, tired as well, and Megatron just noticed the cracked and scorched bench across the room - the one he’d been sitting in previously. So it was true then, he was indeed crumbling.

“The injury you sustained before your sleep, it is beyond my repair. But left untouched for so long it seems your system decided to shortcut a few wires, leaving you a ticking time bomb before a full system failure.” Megatron had yet to notice Starscream’s servo had yet to leave his jaw, relaxed into it without thought. "Then you didn't move for years, systems were trapped. You're a mess, more than you already were." 

“So what are your intentions?”

“You’ll need a new body. One up to more modern standards.” Megatron scoffed at the idea but Starscream didn’t seem willing to argue. “I have someone who can do it. Someone you’ll trust and then we can return you to your loyal subjects.” A small grin broke free, Starscream’s eagerness to show off knowledge somehow overcoming his melancholic demeanor. Unsurprising. Starscream always preferred smiling to frowning and yelling to talking. Almost an insult how well he knew the traitorous jet.

“What do you mean?”

“It means, we’re going back to Cybertron.” The seeker’s smile was false. Megatron wasn't sure how he knew, but a sensation like a voice whispered _liarliarliar_ when he smiled. “And we’re going to reunite you with the Decepticons.”  
  
...

"You can't keep doing this to yourself." Vega catches Starscream as the elder-seeker steps out of the medical bay, servo clutching his chest plate where the seam to his spark lay hidden among the cockpit's design. The dark seeker is given a scowl for his concern, brushed past and left to follow his commander. "It's going to kill you."

"I've lived this way for hundreds of thousands of years, a few more weeks won’t end me." Starscream huffed and regretted the size of the other, the longer strides able to keep up with ease. He wishes the younger seeker were small again, he once could fit on Starscream’s shoulder. "Don't you have training? You lost to him rather quickly.” The insult didn’t work and Starscream only could sigh in annoyance. “We’re not discussing this. I’ve already said no.”

“He won’t know what you’ve done for him.”

“He won’t care.” Starscream feels like they’ve had this conversation endlessly over the past orbits since he felt Megatron's return. “Once he’s stable in a new body, this /condition/ might be able to be broken. I'm owed a favor” This did not sit well with Vega, it never did, and Starscream raised a servo to press carefully against the young jet's dark faceplate. “Then nothing has to change.”

“But Soundave said…”

“That twitchy toaster has no hold over your future.” Starscream reminded, tone dark but his annoyance evaporated with a sigh. “We agreed Vega. This is what is best for us. All three of us.”

“I know.”

“Take Crux, go train. And for the love of Primus keep Crux out of the medbay.”

“Yes Kare,” He spoke then startled at his mistake, looking down at the other who seemed cross with the slip. “I mean. Alpha Lyrae.”

 


	3. Fragments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kare = Creator  
> Ser = Sire
> 
> Warning. I bullshit alien language and try to write another fight scene in this chapter.
> 
> And as always, please excuse any egregious grammatical errors and misspellings, I’m never one to edit past a general review

* * *

 

Megatron sits in contemplation with a mind that would not stop hurting.

Starscream had been correct, the more he moved - regained his faculties - the more aware of his damages he became. Pain was the first to return in throbbing waves of incapacitating noise and jagged edges. Swarming his processor with static and noise. He’d begin counting the ways his systems refused to respond, the assumed shortcuts of his time offline and the mess of his body was a disheartening realization. Even having the fusion cannon returned was of little comfort, the code corrupted by self repair gone terribly wrong. Calcified systems rejecting the weapon which he could still lift, and little else. No charge could be summoned, no soothing heat of his power. Megatron had been helpless before, broken on the battlefield, but this was somehow worse.

In this way he was a sterile threat. A joke that mocked his pride and no promises from a traitor’s mouth could calm his agonizing thoughts. The reminder of a world lost, destiny reshaped out of his control.

He’d been given the only available room on Starscream’s ship and had commanded the door remain open - the idea of being shut in once more settling poorly with his instincts. Starscream had agreed and lingered, offering explanation in return for Megatron laying on the berth just large enough to accommodate.

“I’ve survived worse.” Megatron had complained at the treatment and the seeker only sneered.

“No. You haven’t.” Their building argument only settled when Starscream had agreed to reattach the cannon, which he did with only minor swearing. Megatron watching ever-diligent servos work as he once did in their time previous. Small moments forgetting how removed he was from those days. Brief seconds where he could almost imagine the ship as the Nemesis - expecting familiar soldiers to stumble in. They both knew Megatron could not use the weapon but it was a comfort that the young seeker, Vega, would not be able to have it.. Brat didn’t even know how to use it properly and had pouted like a true sparkling when "Alpha Lyrae" took it away.

The conversation with Starscream (Tacky in gold and black. Not red. No matter how Megatron glared) sitting across the room in line with cannon, went about as well as he expected and Megatron wondered how compromised his injuries had left him. Allowing the traitor to go unmet with violence. Starscream referring to himself as Megatron’s /savior/ and the mech had almost requested of the brute Vega to shoot him. Put him out of this misery and foreign world. He did not belong here.

“How did you convince Soundwave to betray me?” They’d begun with the repeat of an earlier ignored question which rightfully annoyed Starscream. Good. If he could not strangle the seeker than he would take whatever petty vengeance he could.

“I didn’t have to. They sided with me after you declared we would all die that day.”

“You’re lying.” Even though something whispered to Megatron that Starscream was indeed not.”Soundwave was loyal.”

“You’re right, they are.” The seeker remained perfectly still though his tone expressed irritation, gold digit tapping rhythmically against a crossed leg. Megatron noticed then that Starscream’s servos had been modified. What once were pointed edges were now talons. Plated high on each knuckle until coming to a bladed end, which the former-warlord found incredibly strange considering how vain Starscream had been. And how tacky it looked. All of him was strange, different. Megatron hated it and found he missed the near-scandalous color blocking of red and white. Delicate hands of blue...

Starscream must have noticed his staring and claws - no - talons curled inward and disappeared from his lap.

“Did you say, they **are** loyal?”

“Oh good you’re finally paying attention.” Megatron growled in response but found he held no leverage against Starscream, couldn’t command his attitude by fear anymore. “And yes. I did. Soundwave is alive and well. I would actually love to explain but you keep cutting me off.”

“I’d rather cut you down.” A meaningless threat in a room where only one was functional enough to be considered threatening. Though Megatron believes he could take Vega and perhaps that violet seeker from before, Starscream had always been the most dangerous thing in sight. Even at his most submissive.

“Is this fun? Getting nowhere, sitting there like a piece of rusted ---” Starscream caught his anger, bringing wings back down from their tense height. The chair was made for somemech larger than himself and the seeker had plenty of room to stretch the black and star-branded wings like some distraction to his temper. “I want to explain, but I need you to listen.” Something echoed in his voice that Megatron could not ignore. An earnest request which graced Megatron’s receptors like an old memory of when he could trust the other. Starscream would be an unreliable narrator - but what choice did he have?

“Fine.” Was all he gave in return and Starscream relaxed a touch further, flickering red optics that did not suit the new color coding.

Then he explained.

Soundwave, even to Starscream’s admitted surprise, had agreed Megatron’s decision was an impaired one. Unsatisfactory. They were the one to tell Starscream of the escape pod, of their intentions to use it as means for Megatron to be relocated from the battlefield once Starscream had subdued him.

“The initial plan had been for me to draw a distraction, lead the Autobot attention from the pod while Soundwave and you escaped.” Starscream had almost gone flat in tone during this moment and Megatron found it unsettling. “I gave the announcement of your death so Autobots would hear and perhaps get sloppy. Afterall, there’s nothing they wanted more than to see your  _untouchable power_ , laid to waste.” Even his deliberate sucking up fell short and Megatron wanted to warn him to stop. “Of course, my second message was for our faction only. I couldn’t risk telling the troops you were not truly dead - upon capture some of us aren’t as brave as others.”

Megatron snorted at the thought of Starscream being included in the “brave” category.

“But -- with Soundwave’s support we gave the order for retreat, with full intention that we would regroup somehow. Those on the planet surface had little chance but my seekers and any transport model willing to snatch up a few of our stranded troops managed to slip out of Autobot capture.”

“I was with Soundwave when the pod launched?” He did not recall his previous captors mentioning another - and had in fact no opinions on Soundwave’s well-being when one tossed out the assumption the third might be dead.

“No. Luckily not. Soundwave realized too late that by sending the first transmission - the Autobots had the chance to lock onto their signature. Had they gone with you…”

“They would have been a tracking device.”

“Exactly. Leading right to you. And wouldn’t that have been the crown jewel of our plan?” His smile was more a grimace, but Starscream always had the talent of making any expression appear calculated. Megatron had no way of knowing if he was honest with the disappointment. “We didn’t have time to come up with a new signal, or install some program onto the pod that would make it untraceable should the Autobots catch it on their scanners.” Voice picked up just for a moment as Starscream relived the moment. Megatron could read the tension in his wings, the way they struggled to remain still and instead shuddered behind him. “We did what we could, launched the ship, and simply hoped we could escape so that we could track you down once it was safe.”

“If you were so concerned with my safety in this moment,” Megatron did his best not to mock - and failed miserably. He tried not to think of the means in which Starscream used to distract him, to take him out. “Why didn’t you come with me?” An expression he could not read slithered across Starscream’s dark faceplate, wrinkling the corners of his mouth where before Starscream had developed dimples from smirking and snarling too often. Now he just appeared to struggle with his words.

“I had to find my wingmates.” Megatron thought of Starscream’s trine, wondering where they might be in all this? He was so used to Starscream stepping away from the customary formation it hadn’t even dawned on him to consider the absence of the two unnatural. But the frown was replaced with something much darker and Megatron watched Starscream’s wings quiver with his thoughts. Talons curled and punctured the underside of his chair. “But it didn’t matter. By the time we launched the escape vessel and went to draw attention from it --”

“You had company.”

“And entire platoon of smash-happy Wreckers positively glowing in excitement after hearing of your death.” Optics flared and Megatron tried to listen over the sound of his own anger rising to the surface. The thought of himself, useless and being sent off to dead space while his soldiers were left behind. Where he couldn’t protect anyone...

Starscream continued to explain the brief battle and his attempt to escape with Soundwave in tow, but upon inevitable defeat he sent out the call of surrender directly to Optimus Prime. Megatron let out a scathing laugh which startled the seeker. Processor swimming in dizzying pain - ignored for the sake of how miserable he found the situation.

“You _tattled_ , to Prime.”

“I’m not stupid enough to surrender to a brute squad.” Starscream defended his actions, cowardly, but clever. Always clever when it was /his/ life on the line. “You bet I kept Prime on call the entire time. Let the Decepticons and Autobots alike see me surrender, I didn’t care. If I cut that line for a moment they’d have ripped my head from my shoulders.”

“You’re seeking sympathy from the wrong audience.” Megatron reminded, but hated how he couldn’t fault Starscream for the decision. If there was one thing he could say of the seeker, it was once possessed by a plan he did follow through - stubbornly and destructively if necessary. “Though you’ll excuse my laughter, after all, you’re claiming these elaborate actions were to save me. Prevent the end of the Decepticons. Then you go surrendering not kliks after.” He laughed like he could spit and felt both shame and fury radiating from his former Second in Command. Picking his wounded pride with petty delight should have felt better than this, instead Megatron found himself forcing the mocking laughter.

To his credit, Starscream did not immediately launch at Megatron - talons drawn - as one might have expected. Perhaps that was the Starscream Megatron had last known and not the gold creature sitting before him. Megatron despised it all. He preferred Starscream to yell, to draw him into a fight! Defend himself! Point blame! Anything but watch him like some fragile creature to coddle with a bedtime story!

“Megatron.” Starscream’s voice was too soft and something must have glitched in him as the seeker was no longer sitting across the room but now at his side. Talons gentle at the seams of his fist Megatron had not known he was clenching, trying to ease him from the grip. Starscream was red for a brief moment until Megatorn recalibrated his optical sensors and his seeker returned to the dark and gold ghost.

“You surrendered.” He shook the offending servo from his wrist, but didn’t badger Starscream to return across the room. “What followed? Peace talks? Groveling? Did you atleast threaten him once before promising to behave?”

“Well, not in that order.” Starscream almost smiled at something Megatron did understand. He remained standing at the bedside, talons calm and resting alongside Megatron’s hip joint - reaching for nothing more than a presence in the other’s proximity field. A gentleness Megatron did not like or comprehend. “We tried peace talks, after I stopped threatening. There were group meetings. Conferences. More threats, swears of rebellion.” Megatron shuddered to think what Starscream might have been like leading peace talks. The seeker didn’t know the word. “I was arrested. Twice. Despite never technically being out of Autobot custody. You know they really aren't that much fun. Then the Neutrals got involved - that was when the messier bits started.”

“I’m sure you brought about a great harmony for all Cybertronian kind.” He sneered without heat, suddenly too tired to engage in their usual hateful banter. “Starscream, leader of the Decepticons, traitor King and beloved savior.” The seeker’s face was unreadable next as a string of pops erupted in Megatron’s audial sensors that he decided not to be concerned over. Then. Starscream moved without moving, suddenly on the other side of the berth, checking holograms of data as they read Megatron’s systems. It took a great deal of strength when it shouldn’t have just to reach out, catch Starscream’s wrist in the dark (when had the lights been dimmed?) to hold him steady.

“You’re awake.” He spoke quietly as if Megatron had not been awake the entire time? Though his spark felt swollen, the pain in his cranium had subsided for now.

“What happened to the Decepticons?” It was all he wanted to know. Not more of Starscream’s “heroics” or bureaucratic babblings. “What happened to the soldiers you decided I shouldn’t fight alongside?” Starscream frowned, turned his wrist so Megatron no longer needed to strain to keep his limb upright. Felt talons brush a seam in his armor where what seemed like mere months before, Starscream had fired on him. It still ached.

“After another war was nearly started between the Unaligned who wanted us all dead, and Autobots who were struggling not to agree...we came to an understanding.” Megatron exhaled a low rumbling growl, one Starscream would be well familiar with as a sign of his impatience. “Those of us who wanted to earn a place on Cybertron, rebuilding. Prove that they rejected the Decepticon ideals -- could stay. They could work towards it.” He must have sensed Megatron’s horror as he quickly added. “Not slavery! No. It’s. Different. Those still on Cybertron have done well for themselves, you would be proud. Perhaps. I never really know with you.”

So. No death pits or mass executions. It settled Megatron a degree - then again he hadn’t expected the worst even with his rivalry with Prime.

“What of those who didn’t stay?” Megatron was careful not to say /you/ considering the average bot might have assumed Starscream was dead. “Those who wouldn’t bend to Autobot rule?”

“They left.”

“What?” He blinked optics in surprise, not sure if he heard correctly. “You just...left? Abandoned Cybertron?”

“Some of them couldn’t bear to stay, pretend the war hadn’t changed us all. We lost you, unable to find you...” A tension crept into Starscream’s voice and he was warm with frustration in mere moments. Pulling away from Megatron’s side that the former-gladiator strained to see him in the dark. “So they left. Found somewhere new. A place where Cybertron can’t touch them.”

“Who let you go?” Starscream’s optics were round red lights in the dark and Megatron found for a moment that he could imagine Starscream was red and pale once more. Dangerous and hungry, a grinning soldier radiating pride in the dark.

“My liege," He spoke but it felt as if Starscream whispered directly into his spark. “Decepticons aren’t known for asking permission.”

…

With Megatron’s injuries it was clear that he had no choice but to trust in Starscream, what little that counted for. The seeker seemed thrilled with the development, extending talons to shake on their new-found understanding, to which Megatron declined. He was still not entirely convinced Starscream wasn’t planning on turning him over to some Hunter guild as the previous crew had tried...but if Starscream was planning on betraying him outright, he was doing a terrible job protecting his ship from Megatron.

“Our first stop is Krato Thrice, one of the unaligned colonies.” Starscream had explained, showing Megatron around the humble ship, telling him not to touch anything like some sparkling and even going as far as to slap his servo away from a console. Starscream didn’t even bother to pretend to be startled when Megatron raised his fist in return. Not that he would have struck him, even if the strength was present. It just felt natural to react. Starscream prodded, Megatron pushed, wasn’t that always their way?

“Krato Thrice.” Megatron repeated, following Starscream to the ship’s bridge. It was a small space, similar in color and design to the rest of the darkly lit ship. All basic gray and clean pale lights, nothing as gaudy as Starscream and his crew’s paint jobs. Speaking of, the violet seeker, Skycrux, from the incident of mercenaries had made an appearance. The grinning face spun around in his chair, watching Megatron as he entered behind Starscream (because Starscream stuck out a wing and prevented them from entering simultaneously). The mirror finish reflected every light and motion in the room and caused the seeker to appear constantly in movement. “And what will we find on Krato Thrice?” Vega was waiting at the Captain’s podium, optics thinning as Megatron spoke.

“Hook.” Starscream grinned, positively delighted with the look of interest on Megatron’s face. “I told you, you require an upgrade. You can’t even process modern energon in that frame.” He motioned to all of Megatron like an insult. “And I sort of figured you’d like to see another loyal face.”

“One loyal face would suffice.” Starscream frowned, but it was ruined by the soft “Ooo” of laughter from Skycrux at the station below. The young seeker didn’t seem deterred from his amusement even as three sets of optics turned towards him, each for a different reason. Starscream held a face that reminded Megatron briefly of Soundwave: after they’d spent a day wrangling sick cassettes after trying to eat rocks.

“Hook and Scavenger have been living there for quite some time, best way for the remaining cons to gather information, the newest medical advances, modifications, etcetera. Oh and besides, you’re supposed to be dead and I’d like for that information not to get out before we’re in safe territory thank you.” Learning to keep himself quiet while Starscream spoke /at/ him had been a talent Megatron never wanted. Yet. Here he was, navigating the seeker’s mood as if he were not the superior in the…

Skycrux’s wings shone in the light, catching Megatron’s attention. No brand, no four point star or anything to mark his faction. It haunted Megatron, finding it an indecent reminder that the Decepticons were all but gone. Scattered by Starscream’s carelessness.

_But still alive_ a correction skipped across his processor and Megatron felt strangely detached from the thought. Yes. Alive. But in what state would Megatron (if Starscream could be trusted) find his faction?

“You said we were intending to return to Cybertron.” Their dead homeworld’s resurrection had been explained by Starscream in a simple _“I don’t know how, I wasn’t there”_ and had Megatron fuming for lack of answers. “If Hook is not on Cybertron and the Decepticons are elsewhere why---”

“We need a ground bridge to reach them.” Vega interrupted before Starscream could answer, stepping up to his commanding officer’s side. Starscream didn’t reach the large seeker’s eyeline. Starscream had always been smaller than the average seeker, faster - slighter. But Vega’s size was almost comical in comparison. “Getting to Novus Caelum isn’t an easy trip. We have ways to infiltrate and utilize New-Iacon’s ground bridge tech. It’s faster.”

“Novus Caelum?” Megatron repeated, giving Starscream a look of annoyance. “Must you name everything with your poor taste?” Starscream only shrugged, trying not to look so obvious as he watched Vega addressing Megatron.

“Don’t ask me, I wasn’t there when it was named.” He huffed, echoing an earlier dismissal, and it gave time for the large jet’s words to catch up. Starscream seemed prepared for Megatron’s anger, even taking a step back before his voice raised.

“So we’re not returning to Cybertron...we’re infiltrating it?!”

“We are getting you a new body first.” Starscream suggested, as though it made a difference to Megatron’s grinding denta and swelling pain in the back of his helm. “Besides. I’m owed a favor. It won’t be a problem.”

Over Starscream’s shoulder, Vega makes a face that Megatron feels he’s worn himself quite a few times in response to Starscream. He might of had sympathy for the jet had it not been for the look of annoyance when Vega realized he’d been noticed and twisted his expression into something equally distasteful. Below, Skycrux makes an amused sound and looking between the former-gladiator and the jet, mutters to himself “That’s so weird” before Starscream quickly began barking orders.

This would be a long trip it seemed.

…

The ship was clearly stolen and it takes Megatron only a few solar cycles to realize this. He knows - knew Starscream well after all. The irrational seeker was incapable of keeping a clean station so being in charge of an entire cruiser like this - without pulling panels out to rewire functions that did not /work/ together - seemed improbable. It wasn’t difficult to deduce the ship, in clean and fully working order, had not been in the seeker’s hold for long. Despite Starscream’s claims otherwise it was Skycrux who confirmed it for him, when asking the ever-moving seeker which way the engine room was he merely shrugged and responded “I don’t know, Lyrae just stole it a few orbits ago.”

Starscream didn’t talk to Crux for a week which was interesting since he was still the active captain on the ship.

Accepting his fate came with certain benefits. The three seekers asked nothing of Megatron, and in return, Megatron was left to manage his own time. Only Vega seemed disturbed by this, or too curious for his own good, and had taken to following Megatron where he explored the ship. Nosing around unlocked consoles seeking anything to do or spend his time on. Since only a partial amount of his questions had been answered, Megatron was left trying to piece together the rest. Given access to the ship’s information only proved somewhat useful as it was a neutral’s ship originally and all previous data had been erased.

Shocking Starscream hadn’t repainted the cruiser to match his new look. Little information could be gathered to prove Starscream wasn’t lying past recent docking shipments between Cybertron and the stolen vessel. At least evidence Cybertron was indeed inhabited, but nothing else.

Megatron spent most of his time otherwise walking halls, avoiding the ever-lurking Vega, and trying to make sense of his current situation. The goliath seeker seemed unwilling and uninterested in Megatron entirely...unless he wasn’t looking. Megatron was a soldier of countless years and knew when he was being followed. Knew that Vega held tight to corners when Megatron paced obsessively when the boredom took its toll. He once tried approaching the jet, hoping to ascertain the reason for his paranoid nature (must have been around Starscream for too long a time) but the other managed to elude him at every attempt. He seemed unwilling to speak to Megatron without Starscream present and would almost /flee/ at the possibility of being alone with him.

Then, on occasion Skycrux was in trouble and sent out of the command centre, and left to wander the halls as Megatron’s shadow. A peculiar seeker this one - recalling how he’d been so calm when intercepting Megatron and the mercenaries and from there had proven himself to be something of a concern. He was, a strange mech. Loud and talkative about nothing in particular, surprising Megatron with his knowledge of /earth/ terminology and asked the former-warlord more than once...

_“Have you ever seen a dog?”_

When not following Megatron Skycrux stood in Vega’s shadow in a similar fashion. At times even holding him by the wing with dark servos and letting the other lead him about the ship when certain orders where given by Starscream - who remained mostly on the bridge unless tending to mandatory check ups on his former-superior.

And didn’t that just thrill Megatron, to willingly submit to a traitor’s examinations.

He asked Starscream only once about the presence of Skycrux and Vega - hoping it went without saying that he wondered where Thundercracker and Skywarp had gone. Starscream had only said he’d left to find his trine instead of join Megatron on his “escape”. That had been a nice gesture, but the elite trine had been offsync since they woke on earth. Megatron couldn’t avoid his eventual consideration that Starscream had allowed them to perish in the surrender to the Autobots just to be rid of them.

That line of thought did not last, no, even at his worst behavior Starscream always managed to prove himself loyal to his trinemates even if the other two did not know. Going as far as to physically put himself between Megatron and Skywarp after the purple seeker had performed a prank which left multiple corridors of the Victory flooding. His elite Trine bickered and fought, took turns challenging one another when tensions rose too high -- but before earth. Before everything had begun to fall apart the three had fought their way into Megatron’s inner circle by their own merit. Together.

“You keep different company these days,” He asked just once and Starscream made a face which resonated with Megatron’s spark, unwanted flicker of anxiety on Starscream’s behalf. “I would have expected familiar faces instead.”

Starscream closed the panel to Megatron’s cranial wiring and didn’t meet his gaze.

“It would be best if you did not mention them to my current crew.” Starscream answered, plain and quiet, plucking at Megatron’s helm with a talon. Megatron had no authority to demand Starscream explain himself, and that sympathetic twist to his spark churned until it was irritated.

“I used to not be able to shut you up,” He spoke up, vulnerable on the medical bench but still allowing Starscream to hover around him. Check stats on display drones and tap horrid gold talons across his body. “And now I can’t get you to talk.” This almost makes Starscream laugh, the sharpest exhale of air while the seeker twisted his mouth, looking over Megatron with something like appreciation. Perhaps recalling the old days. Megatron still coming to terms with the idea that what was fresh in his memory might be relics to Starscream. Hardly a lifetime ago, but long enough that Megatron struggled not to hold the other responsible for his current position. Starscream claimed he was trying to save Megatron, against his will and wishes, but failed miserably. Where does he draw the line at intentions and outcome?

“One question, then you go rest.” He bargained before Megatron could complain. “I even swear I’ll answer honestly.”

“Where was this willingness when you were mine?” His phrasing was poor choice, evident in the way Starscream’s optics flashed and he scowled, turning the corners of his mouthplate. But Megatron refused to lose the opportunity for an (allegedly) honest answer. “When I was kept by the scum, upon waking, I asked of your fate.” He paused, wondering if he should clarify it was not just Starscream he asked after...but liked the way Starscream was watching him almost cautious. “One said you were the first to be executed - so imagine my surprise that you’re still alive.”

The seeker’s laughter felt like old times - before earth and the beginning of their tension. Before he lost Starscream’s loyalty somewhere in the mess.

“This new world isn’t as bloodthirsty as the one we left you in, Megatron.” Why Starscream felt the need to use his designation, Megatron was unsure, but not displeased. “There’s a place, even for creatures like me.” He smirked down at his former-leader, all the grace and glow of that prideful creature Megatron was beginning to miss.

“So you escaped the chopping block then.” He spoke, dismissing Starscream’s claims of a kinder world.

“Of course I escaped." Starscream snorted. "I survived you, I wasn’t going to die now!”

…

“Have you ever seen a dog?”

If Starscream wasn’t going to kill him, then it was apparent Skycrux would.

“Stop asking me that.” He’s answered fifteen times before.

“What about a circus?” Megatron could only growl. It was no deterrent.

The young seeker had taken to following Megatron when the former-gladiator, former-warlord, former-useful mech took to his routine of pacing the halls. Endlessly looping the pathways, counting floor lights of all things just to keep his processor occupied. It had become apparent that Starscream had no use for him, nor expectation. He was given no duties, no means of occupying his time and it had grown tiring rather quickly. In fact. Megatron was going out of his mind with boredom. He could spend time on the bridge, trying to bully Starscream into either giving more information - or giving him something to /do/ but most his attempts were consistently delayed by Vega’s presence. Whatever the large seeker had against Megatron, it was not subtle and had begun to nag something in his instinctual programming.

Skycrux waddled at his side, watching him intently, small - dark glossa stuck out between his denta like he’d forgotten it was there. Megatron had no command over the seeker, no hold on this world and thus - in this new era - his snarl and tight fist meant nothing. Before, Megatron had legions bowing to his rule - and now he couldn’t even control a bored child!

“Have you ever gotten stuck in gun mode?”

Starscream had warned him against using more strength than necessary to get around, and would likely be upset (not that he cared) at Megatron’s decision to lift the violet seeker from beneath the arms and physically remove him from his path.

“Stop following me.” He commanded and by the time Megatron continued his way down the reconnecting halls, Skycrux was waiting for him around a corner. “How?!” There must be some path the young seeker knew of and abused just to drive Megatron mad! But against his certainties the violet jet was trying to induce insanity (Megatron had survived Skywarp. He would survive this) he only flickered wide bright optics and appeared wholly innocent.

“Did you /really/ build a giant purple chicken?”

“How do you know so much of Earth?” Megatron snapped, putting a servo on the seeker’s shoulder to push him aside, searching for whatever sneaking pathway the other had clearly crept through. He doubted very much Starscream would be bragging of his many failures on the organic planet, and the tales Skycrux seemed interested in were rather specific. Uncharacteristically, Skycrux went quiet and Megatron shifted his weight to fix the small jet with a look of impatience. “Who spoke to you of Earth?”

“I don’t know anything about Earth.” Wings flashed high. “What’s Earth? Never been there. Bye!” There’s a crackle of light, the scorch of molecules as Skycrux’s body wavers in tangibility - swelling in harsh pale light - and with a sound like thunder warps out of reach, casting the faintest echoes of his form.

And leaving Megatron standing there in horror at the obvious.

 

 

“I told him not to do that in front of you.” Starscream explained later with all the concern of a bored drone without a mind.

“I can’t imagine why.” Megatron wasn’t stupid, and he’d spent enough time around Starscream’s trine (Primus help him) that seeing a young seeker utilize a warp drive only left few possibilities. “You led me to believe your trine had died.”

“I don’t recall saying that.” Starscream didn’t bother looking at him, busy with his (beginnings of chaos) “repairs” on the ship’s transmission network. Leaving Megatron to stalk him to the communications hub and nearly be kicked multiple times by pointed turbines as Starscream climbed various circuit board towers to rewire a perfectly functional system. “But your assumptions are noted, I’m sure they’ll get a good laugh out of it.”

“Skycrux is their sparkling.” The room was small, used to keep the sensitive towers isolated and still Starscream treated them like stairs. Megatron had to put a servo up, catch Starscream’s lean leg before he was blindly kicked in the helm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why did you need to know?” (Not so) shocking: Starscream keeping secrets. He looked over his crouched wings, rolling optics with a flurry of light and shifted atop the tower. Laying flat to work on rearranging the cables, leg still resting in Megatron’s grip. “Neither Skywarp nor Thundercracker had been willing to change their models - I couldn’t have Wanted-Decepticons flying about in Autobot territory and I needed somemech who could warp. Simple as that!”

“How old is he?” Starscream grumbled the answer. “Starscream!”

“He’s just at his second forge. Happy?” No. No he was not but why Starscream needed to /ask/ was beyond him.

“You brought children to a warzone.” Megatron hoisted the seeker’s leg higher, causing Starscream to roll to his side and snap back with a warning glare. “How did they approve this?”

“Why are you so worked up?” He tried to kick his leg from Megatron’s grasp and it was futile. Though he’d been weakened Megatron was still stronger than Starscream could ever be - the frustration showed. “It’s hardly a warzone and I needed the help. You’d gotten yourself into trouble and Skycrux was eager to join.” Megatron still hadn’t been satisfied with the answers, which was likely his own fault. Truly, the irritation that Starscream would endanger young Decepticon lives (no - not Decepticons) was bad enough...but it had just occurred to Megatron in that moment that an entire generation of his faction existed now without ever knowing what the true force of the Decepticon army stood for.

Starscream, against Megatron’s assumptions, seemed to find sympathy for him in the dark shadows of his spark. His expression shifting from annoyed to reserved. Megatron allowed the leg to drop, for Starscream to scoot to the edge of the tower and look down at him in examination.

“You weren’t forgotten.” Megatron’s dismissive snort was enough of an explanation to how much he believed Starscream who only kicked his pede lightly against the other’s chestplate. “Really, you think Soundwave and their like let anyone forget you? Megatron please, the greatest stories these sparkling have are of you.” His tone was rolling with the annoyance that he had to explain this at all. “Regardless of how things ended, or how you choose to spend the time deciding your feelings on it, it doesn’t erase what you did for them. Your Decepticons.”

Megatron wonders if Starscream realizes he’s othered himself from the conversation. Likely yes. Sitting atop his circuity perch, watching Megatron from above as he could from below. No other capable of seeing through Megatron as easily and willingly than Starscream. Megatron once valued the other’s controversial voice in a sea of followers satisfied with simply following. To rule yourself, master your own destiny was the Decepticon’s purpose after all. No other exemplified such qualities as Starscream once had.

Without thought or question Megatron steps forward, letting Starscream’s knees brush his chest plate as the seeker extends servos to be helped down. Bringing talons to Megatron’s pauldrons and trusting the mech to bear his weight to the floor, remaining close in the cramped space not quite large enough to accommodate his wings and Megatron’s width. He keeps his servos on Starscream’s torso, almost needing to bow to maintain contact as the sharpened digits of Starscream’s touch drew down to Megatron’s chest, tracing an insignia which was no longer there, over the seam of his spark chamber. A rare and consuming comfort warms him from beneath, as if Starscream might not need to part the plates to reach inside.

It was startling how at ease Megatron found himself in that moment, wanting to both despise Starscream and cling to the only recognizable force in this new world. The moment felt familiar, the nearness with gaze met and all the frustrations between them settled to the sidelines in fear of disrupting the quiet. Starscream was no longer red, his frame sleeker and without the squared edges of previous incarnations. All previously known naivety and bitterness carved out of the seeker by a life Megatron was not around to see him through..but still very much the jet Megatron kept at his side for millions of years.

“Last time we were this close, you shot me.” Megatron spoke and felt a vibration from Starscream’s form, watching the seeker fight a grin.

“I think you’re starting to like it.” He catches Starscream’s focus flicker to his mouth, feels the pinprick of talons dig desperate into his armor...

“Are you in here K---” The communication doors spring open, Vega ducking down to look into the dark room and Megatron is taken aback by how /hard/ Starscream manages to shove him away, sending the former-warlord crashing into a delicate tower. His elbow smashing through brittle metal. Wires spark wild across his backstrut as he gives a sharp cry.

“Slaggit!”

“What did you do?!”

“Me?!”

“Vega, keep this oaf from breaking anything else! I have to fetch more copper wiring and fix this mess!” Starscream shoves past the taller seeker, leaving Megatron snarling and pulling sharps of metal out of his joints. Cursing reckless as vents roar to life in frustration. His need to strangle Starscream had, over these past cycles dipped into the low forties - almost where it had been during their later years together. Now he felt that rise to dangerous levels, having been tricked again. In fact, Vega was the only reason he wasn’t able to run after Starscream, start a fight to alleviate this pride-scorched anger.

The dark painted seeker was just staring at Megatron, optics wide in clear discomfort. Clawed servo frozen in its place at the door frame even as Megatron moved out of the room, shaking glass from his body and heading the opposite direction so the jet felt no need to follow.

Despite his humiliation, the infuriating moment where Starscream managed to dig his claws into him /again/, Megatron couldn’t help the unexpected swell of his spark. 

…

Three solar cycles pass and he does not speak to Starscream. Which seemed to be the seeker’s intentions as well. They don’t pass one another in the halls and Megatron avoids the bridge all together. His checkups are missed and he wonders if Starscream’s embarrassment would finally be the death of him -- but Skycrux appears at his chambers with a modified drone ready to scan Megatron and report to Starscream.

It irritates him more than it should. In fact he should be grateful Starscream is leaving him be.

Unfortunately losing Starscream’s company also means losing the one mech on the hollow ship who could hold a conversation. Megatron had never missed Shockwave’s endless ramblings until that moment, laying on his berth with the same thoughts circling his mind like a poisonous serpent encircling him. They still had more than an orbital cycle left in their trip - or so explained Skycrux. Avoiding certain Autobot outposts and unaligned travel routes proved to be difficult and the closer they drew to Krato Thrice, to Cybertron, the more crowded the routes became.

He learned what he could from the erratic seeker - but Crux seemed more interested in asking questions rather than answering them. Sitting with Megatron in the hallways when not busy with assigned tasks. Comparing the size of their servos to one another, the width of their limbs. Being picked at by a /fledgling/ scarcely past their second forge seemed to activate some long-dormant protocol in his mangled processor - kept him from acting on the annoyed threats he cast out to try and drive the seeker off when he became too bothersome.

Skycrux’s information was limited but appreciated. Learning a few things of the Decepticon colony, Novus Caelum, and the fate of the remaining Elite Trine. How they helped build the colony, taught Skycrux (and his younger brother - because Skywarp apparently wanted a set) all they knew and there had been a gathering of information from all Decepticons, wanting to prepare later generations with what was available. It sounded poetic, but also frustrated Megatron for lack of details. He wanted to know their strategy of defense - if they were actively under attack or observation? What was Starscream doing to protect this new generation?

“Oh, Starscream isn’t there.” Skycrux explained one evening as Vega and Starscream had gone out of the ship, repairing damage to the hull after a surprise meteor shower had caused minor-but inconvenient damage.

“He’s not with his trine?”

“Nope.” Crux seemed distracted watching his sharp pedes waver back and forth as it reflected light across the ceiling and walls. “I mean he visits. Occasionally. Brings news and boring talks with Soundwave - but believe it or not I am not invited to those conversations.” He seemed to expect Megatron to appear as shocked as he sounded. He was disappointed. “Vega and he just travel around, do their own thing. It’s how I always remember it.”

“Interesting,” Megatron pushes Skycrux’s servo away as the young jet tried once again to touch his olfactory sensor. “The two are...close?”

“Super.”

Megatron mourns the lack of another intelligent, mature individual to converse with. “He seems too young.”

“Vega?” Skycrux asks and Megatron remained quiet. “He’s older than me!” Here he was, the former terror of the stars having a gossiping session with what was all but a sparkling in a bigger body. How far he’d fallen. Though pursuing any line of questioning on Vega’s part in Starscream’s life was always met with the same end. Crux growing uncomfortable and warping out - returning only when he believed Megatron had forgotten all about it. Vega himself seemed unable to stand being in a room alone with the former-warlord and that left Megatron only with his assumptions.

“Hey, Megatron? Lord Megatron? Sir Megatron?”

“If you ask about a dog again I swear…” Vents giving off an irritated rush of air.

“What were my creators like, you know, back then?” Megatron glanced down to the smaller mech, unable to sit still even for a moment, swaying back and forth with excitement for no reason other than he was excited to exist. A youthful blessing that Megatron could not blame the young cybertronian for. Not all of them were so lucky.

“Did either of your creators tell you of the time Thundercracker tried to bring a shark onto the Victory and it ate Dirge’s leg?”

“No way!” The seeker grinned and simply vibrated with his interest. Looking so similar to Skywarp that Megatron couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to see it. “What’s a shark?!”

…

He dreams of a vast emptiness where only his thoughts dwell. Countless kliks of stars streaming past while silence is deafening as the noise inside his mind. A repeating statement. A vow. A brand on pale wings. A surge of warmth and obsession unlike ever experienced and it could kill him if he isn't  careful.

Through the haze and hatred, vicious mocking of everything he loves, there is a squeal of something small and fragile while his spark is cut apart. Half empty. Endless. Outside the escape pod’s window he can see red eyes, two sets, searching in the dark for him and there’s nothing he can do. He cannot reach them. He sees as if it is himself, talons curling around a fragile body that burns as bright as a star. Some voice repeats apologies and there’s a numbness curling inside him. Begins to punch the walls of the void, trying to escape before the universe forgets him. Before the stars no longer know his name, but it’s useless. Limbs go slack and the numb begins dragging him back into the web of sleep. Trapped. Forever sleep.

_“What would Ser have thought of me?”_ A voice without body echoes through the stars until it finds him. Brings him comfort before he can feel or hear no more.

_“He would have adored you,”_

…

“Megatron?” He’s startled to awareness by his own designation, proximity alerts and warning alarms flaring to life as he finds his optics adjusting to the dark. “Are you alright?”

He stands at the entrance of a half circle room, a tall curved ceiling and a far wall of stars as they pass through the endless streams of space. The observatory. Megatron had not been here yet, having found it the one room locked upon his endless days repeating the same tired patterns of movement. It was empty, no proper seating and no reason why Megatron might have found himself there - save for the still shape of the one who called out to him.

Vega sat center of the room watching. Optics bright red in the dark and Megatron was able to make out the smallest shapes of data pads and hard-copy tomes scattered across the floor about him. A semi-circle to mirror the room as the large seeker continued to watch, servos clutching one of the tomes near his cockpit, clearly not expecting the other’s presence.

Last Megatron recalled he’d laid down to rest, unsatisfied with a day of silence and Starscream ignoring him. Uneasy and a frustrating quiet had begun to bother him and recharge seemed the best option. Hoping perhaps he’d fall into a coma and wake when there was some purpose for him.

His silence was clearly unsettling the seeker.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be here.” Did his best to lie, seem relaxed when he couldn’t access any memory of seeking out this room - let alone rising from recharge. Thankfully Vega did not seem to share the same suspicious instinct of most seekers which might have him questioning Megatron’s excuse. “What is all this?” Asks, motioning to the mess on the floor as means of distraction so the seeker did not panic or run when Megatron approached.

“Oh it’s,” Dark servos moved to collect the scattered items, but not fast enough before Megatron could read a title on one of the hard-copy tomes.

“Tarnish?” He was able to pluck a datapad from the ground as Vega watched with open embarrassment which did not suit his intimidating build. It was a translation from Secundus Viri, one of Megatron’s later reads as he grew in fascination with the minds kept from low-class citizens such as himself. It had been many years since he’d read these words, the idea of contamination of spirit versus influence of society. Morale and Moral in conflict with the ideals of a given group. He was quite surprised to see the jet with it. “You read Tarnish?”

“I’m learning.” The other seemed wary of Megatron, keeping still as he can while the larger mech took a knee across from him, reaching for another tome without permission. “

“These are advanced.” Another, one that yet again Megatron recalls keeping on the Nemesis as they began their voyage, spreading the reach of the Decepticons from Cybertron. Seeking new worlds to fold into their destiny. Many of his books and documents had been lost over the course of years and many battles. He was finding it difficult to recall what happened to his collection? “Is this because of your name?”

“My name?” Vega echoed, seemingly offended - but then curious. Chin tilting inward a degree. “What do you mean?”

“Vega. It has root in Tarnish - though it always reflects Vosian language. I assume your parentage hailed from the border of your ancestral home.” Megatron realized there were more than simply Tarnish philosophy. As Megatron searched the appendix of the data pads he realized the young seeker had a practical library before him. Engineering feats of the previous century, dissection of topography and organic systems. Maps of every star system Megatron had ever heard of and those he had not. Historical records of Cybertron, the legends of Primus, the old gods, the foundation of Iacon and the coveted history of Vos. A university of knowledge crammed into refitted tablets being hoarded by a frowning seeker on a ship in the middle of nowhere. How much Starscream must dote on this fledgling.

“My name is Vosian.” Vega corrected and seemed, for the moment, content to speak. “It means - “

“ _Forever_...” Megatron answered for him and was pleased by the seeker’s surprise. “But it shares a root with my name. _Ega. To go on_.” Speaking the old code felt like bringing a long forgotten memory back to life. “In combination with the Tarnish suffix, my name means what?” He challenged the seeker and found the mech rose quickly to it.

“Eternal unbalance.” Vega spoke, his pronunciation poor but Megatron was still impressed. “Or an endless struggle. It’s not a very hopeful name.” This brought a low chuckle to Megatron and seemed to resonate with Vega in turn - the first expression he’d seen on the jet beyond “upset” and “horrified” (or frowning like a new-spark having a toy taken away like the fusion cannon).

“You would need an addition to be a proper name, but “Vega” as a Tarnish glyph stands for _“...that which goes on”_. But Vosian tends to lean more towards prettier meanings than other languages.” He realized Vega was typing his every word down into one of the tablets, the soft hue of blue light turning his dark coloration a sharp gray in the dark. A student of the universe, Megatron was beginning to feel similar to the young jet focused on this new information. He could see the crooked scrawl of the glyph, the incorrect strokes of his claw on the screen, and found himself warm with amusement.

Vega doesn’t look up when he asks, “So if I were named Vega-tron?” And there’s a cheekiness Megatron can’t place, almost like the unusually monotone seeker was trying to play clever. It wasn’t appropriate to merge your name with another, at least not in Tarn or Kaon. But Seekers were a breed all their own. Always questioning, always careless of their words.

“It would mean carrying on a struggle - or refusing to surrender to it.” The seeker paused in his notes, distant look crossing his optics as he contemplated the words. “But it wouldn’t suit you, born outside of wartime.” At this Vega powered down the datapad, letting it rest with the others on the floor, lost in his thoughts and leaving Megatron to contemplate the creature before him.

He must be a hybrid spark. Too large for a seeker, too specifically forged for anything else. It was not unheard of, but that it was a seeker who coupled with another build was rare. They tended not to view others as a potential….anything and it was surprising to see such a combination lead to a strong result. Young but powerful despite not knowing how to fully utilize his talents, likely wasn’t exposed to more than seeker culture.

Megatron reflected on the many times Vega proved himself loyal to Starscream, obedient and careful with his actions before the other. He was young, but at least somewhat experienced. Megatron couldn’t help but feel Vega was misplaced in all this, a variable unaccounted for.

“How did you end up in Starscream’s company?” Earlier he guessed something untoward was occurring.. A dedicated young seeker trailing after Starscream, presumably addicted to that notably endless charisma. Perhaps it was just easier to assume Starscream was up to no good, as it always seemed to be the truth. After awhile it was easier to prepare yourself for Starscream to take the more shocking road.

“He’s the most powerful seeker - why wouldn’t I follow him?” Vega offered without pause.

“You’re not nearly as talented a liar as your commanding officer.” It wasn’t a lie, entirely, but there was something more than simple selfish idolization between the two. Starscream had put himself between Vega and Megatron upon their skirmish in the ship - had never hesitated to trust the young seeker with any task offered. From these tomes, their matching insignias, to their quiet conversations on the bridge when they believed Megatron did not notice. Starscream must have forgotten that while Megatron was a gladiator, he also spent a life observing that which was around him every klik of that existence.

“I was born before the establishment of Novus Caelum.” Vega spoke up in the dark, optics distracted by the flashing stars filling the viewing window beside them. “The first spark to emerge in peacetime, so - I have a great deal of Decepticons who refer to themselves as my family even without a drop of shared code between us.”

“Sparklings were usually greatly protected in our ranks.” What few there were during their time of war. Megatron recalled meeting a first forge seekerling. Nubs wings fluttering as their creators showed them proudly to Starscream. The sparkling bit Starscream’s servo and his Second in Command had /laughed/. The creators had asked permission to approach the throne, show their leader their new-spark, but Megatron had declined. Offered them congratulations and did his best not to show his discomfort at how fragile the creature had appeared.

Megatron didn’t know what happened to that fledgling, if they even survived the war.

“What of your creators?”

Vega’s mouth twitches into a smile that only reads as pain. Megatron decided he did not require an answer.

“I will assume your seeker parent is the one who trained you.” The topic change seemed to alleviate Vega of some stress, able to return attention to Megatron - flickering in uncertainty. “But, and I say this with millions of years of experience - you can’t fight for slag.”

“What?” Tone lowers and it brushes the low mood out of Vega’s wings with surprising ease. “I was trained by the best.”

“And you couldn’t even defeat me.”

“You’re-different.” Vega grinds his jaw. “You’re Megatron, the strongest who ever was.” He’d not been expected the open compliment and apparently neither had Vega as the seeker’s face flushed with his embarrassment. “I mean. That’s what they say...on the colony…”

“They’re not wrong.”

“Humble.” Vega grunted in a very Starscream-fashion, and something in his gut rumbled at the familiarity.

“I learned how to fight, survive, I had no other choice. The issue with you is that you’ve been shown. Never learned.”

“I can fight.” It had been in his best interests not to upset the mech, keep Starscream’s loyal shadow in a good mood for worry that the young jet had influence over Starscream’s current state of mind. Before, Megatron had not wanted to chance tipping that balance. Now he saw what Vega was and was no longer cautious of him.

“If you were half your size, you’d be a seeker as lethal as Starscream.” Vega struggled to decide if that was praise or not. It was not. “But you are not and continuing to pretend otherwise will get you killed.” The other tried to dispute but Megatron wouldn’t allow it. He’d trained countless soldiers, none of them with Vega’s specific disillusionment or advantages. “It will be easier once I am upgraded, but in the meantime we can begin with the basics. I assume your battle programming is up to date?”

“My---start with what?” Vega tilted his helm and it took the young mech too long to catch up.

“Starting tomorrow when you’re not following Starscream’s order you will report to me for training.” He handed Vega back the tablet he’d been holding, familiar words of long-offlined minds who were supposed to guide the Decepticons to a new world. Uncertain who failed first.

“You’re going to train me?” He seemed to doubt. “Why?”

“Because if you are the first Decepticon born into peace - then it is my responsibility to ensure you are strong enough that nothing can take that from you.”

...

Starscream did not agree with such sentiment.

In fact, he threw a wrench at Megatron’s head.

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” He lectures Megatron during one of their checkups, his talons twisting around another surgical tool Megatron fears briefly might be thrust into his neck cables if he doesn’t calm Starscream down.

Instead, he yells.

“I’m not the one who put a sparkling into open combat without proper training!”

“He is properly trained!”

“For a seeker, maybe. But he’s grown half a size taller than your build and is certain to grow further!”

“Why do you suddenly care?!”

“I don’t know!” Megatron relents, slumping back onto the medical bench, glaring at Starscream as the seeker paced. He seems too personally affected by the decision and had made quite an impressively strangled face when Vega informed his commander of his intention to train with Megatron. “I’ve no other responsibility in this /universe/ Starscream. My days are spent counting lights in hallways or pulling plates trying to get you to answer questions.”

“You were almost dead a month ago.” Starscream reminds him and the tool in his claws bends at his anger. “And you want to train someone more than a tenth of your age?”

“Someone has to.”

“His creator has!” Starscream’s wings flare defensively, Megatron takes note as more questions begin to blossom in his thoughts.

“Has he? Because I can’t tell!” Megatron felt a pulse of pain shoot through his backstrut, churn against his spark and his left arm goes numb. He says nothing but Starscream whips his focus around and is quick to flick Megatron’s numb servo - looking /furious/ when his former-leader doesn’t react.

“You’re falling apart. Literally. Haven’t we been over this?” His voice is strained, holding back - which is quite worrisome coming from Starscream. Clearly there is something he’s not saying but Megatron is beginning to have his assumptions.

“I’m useless.” Starscream’s optics find Megatron’s gaze and he’s struck with how lovely the seeker can look despite everything. Even with 45% of his processor still determined to wring Starscream’s neck at the end of this. “I should have been there to see his generation grow. There’s too much that has been taken from me.” He recalls how Starscream shot him twice now and the need to throttle him rises back to 55%. “I am going to train that clumsy fool and you can either agree or chance that hybrid-spark getting hurt because he doesn’t know how to control himself.”

Starscream’s mouth parts, startled by some part of Megatron’s words and it’s clear he’s struggling to come to a decision on what to argue with first.

“How did you know he was a hybrid?”

Megatron almost laughs.

“He’s a head taller than any conehead and he casually knocks into anything remotely in his path. He prioritizes his wings but cannot fathom there's any more to himself. He’s a seeker, but not only, and I would like to keep both halves alive.” Megatron’s servo comes back online and the pain subsides. He doesn’t see what Starscream did, busy trying to catch any sign of suspicion or danger in his optics - but in doing so is blind to all past Starscream’s ever-familiar face. “You care enough about him to give him my fusion cannon, why are you hesitating?”

Megatron realizes all at once how close Starscream has gotten in their argument. Face pushed into Megatron’s field, frown drawn and mouth parted - looking so similar to the seeker who’d half fold himself over a war room table to push things around to better suit his suggested plan of attack. Even after Megatron said "no". Arrogant and stubborn as anything. Damn him. They didn’t always have hatred between them and Megatron was loathe to admit it, but he’d fall for Starscream’s distraction even now.

Then Starscream’s face withdraws as does his kinder expression, wilting into something terrible and arrogant. Spinning a tool with his talons and looking over Megatron’s laid out form.

“Fine. If you think you can train him then defeating me should be no problem.”

“Pardon?” Voice goes low, Starscream only grins.

“Well? He’s a young jet and you’re an old mech - I’m the middle figure so. Defeat me without an episode and I’ll not only support you, but will make his training priority.” He unfurled a servo, extending it before Megatron’s reach with a cruel smile that sends warnings off in Megatron’s head. “Sound good?”

There’s an interesting hesitation just past Starscream’s arrogance. It’s obvious in his wings, the smallest twitch of anxiety. In how his smile isn’t quite fitting across his face well enough to hide the concern - whether for Vega or Megatron - Megatron is uncertain.

_“I was trained by the best.”_ Vega had defended, proudly.

Megatron was certain he was, and takes Starscream’s hand. “Agreed.”

…

 

“This is a bad idea.” Vega seems to be in a mood, standing on the imagined “sidelines” of the cargo bay. It was hardly large enough an area for more than a small exploration vessel but was satisfactory to Megatron as a location for their fight. Low enough ceiling that Starscream couldn't abuse flight advantages but open enough that the seeker could dodge and move freely. With Megatron’s handicap (aka: only functioning to a degree) it seemed fair, and Starscream agreed too readily.

As predicted.

“He has a point.” Megatron watched across the cargo bay as Skycrux threw a fit at his commander. It was decided that it would be best to have a crewmember present on the bridge, in case of incident, and while Starscream had found it funny that Megatron suggested the youngest seeker, he agreed. Reluctantly. “Even at our worst we should always be prepared to engage with our greatest enemy.” This made Vega frown even harder.

“He's still your enemy?” The dark jet questioned as they both witnessed Skycrux fling his servos and disappear in a crackle of light. Starscream shook his helm, glancing over a wing and watched them in return, strange expression as optics glanced between the two.

“I am undecided.” Which is as honest an answer as Megatron could give, it didn’t settle the seeker though. “Who are you cheering for?” Cheering, like a grand duel - a colosseum somewhere far away still echoing in the clash of his former triumphs. Unless Optimus demolished the remnants of those great and bloodsoaked structures.

“I’m not cheering.” A youth’s answer for uncertainty. It irritated Megatron.

“This is because of you, you know.” He allowed his volume to carry almost hoping Starscream would hear. “If I am victorious, you will be trained appropriately. You will be stronger. If Starscream defeats me, what then?”

“Then it’s proof you’re not as powerful as they say.” There was that sharpness, slipping into Vega’s voice every now and then. Poorly smothered temper rising to the bait. “And being trained by you would be a waste.” Megatron had to keep himself from grinning. A brat the seeker might be, but held his charms.

Reminded him of Starscream. It only encouraged Megatron’s decisions.

“Then don’t be a coward. Pick a side.” He edged the jet on, rumbling voice a threatening sound to most. “This is for you, about you. Sitting back and letting others fight your battles and make your decisions is no way of the Decepticon.”

“I’m not a Decepticon.” He was quick to correct but Megatron felt no sting at the rejection.

“Aren’t you?” He questioned, looking down at Vega while the other suddenly got it in his processor to try and stand taller, sharp pedes lifting up scarcely higher. “Born from Decepticons, raised by Decepticons. We are your family and you are our future.” Vega leaned back flat onto his pedes, staring at Megatron like something fragile had been struck and he was waiting for the shatter. Too open with his expressions, emotional seeker programming would be the death of him, Megatron thought. “Pick a side.” He ordered while Starscream approached. “Have some stake in your own life. Show me you’re worth this battle.” The jet is riled, giving a familiar sneer in answer to Megatron's challenge.

“I’ll cheer for Alpha Lyrae.” Vega uses the false designation because it upsets Megatron. Picky child. “So that he can shut you up.”

“Good.” Megatron responded proudly. “I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

“Are we doing this? I’m already bored.” Starscream huffed from center of the room, hip jutting at a sharp degree, optics dimming in a theatrical roll. As Megatron began his walk to meet him the seeker snapped his focus to the fusion cannon resting dead on Megatron’s limb. “I thought we agreed, no weapons.” He waved a limb, his own guns previously unmounted and left behind somewhere. Likely didn’t want Megatron tempted to take one.

“If I remove it, how do I know your subordinate won’t steal it again?” From the sidelines Vega looked offended while Starscream only appeared immune to the possibility.

“You’re not even capable of using it, it will just slow you down.” He mocked but Megatron reached the center of the room, tense in preparation. “Fine. Keep it. I was just trying to be fair.” The twisting smile Starscream fought was enough proof Megatron needed that Starscream would not be taking this fight seriously. He would likely dance around, trying to wear him out. His former-Second was a genius tactician where it mattered but a complete idiot when distracted by himself. Starscream kept glancing at Vega, reassuringly?

Yes. Megatron knew what he must do.

“Are we doing this, I’m already bored.” Mocked the previous complaint and Starscream fluttered wings and turned against Megatron’s direction.

“Fine. You ready?”

He lunged before Starscream could kick off the ground and escape his grasp. A shock of noise from Vega but Megatron was only half aware, slamming open fists on either side of Starscream’s helm. The shriek providing confirmation that he’d disrupted audial receptors, sensitive on seekers.

Megatron was not fast so he would have to put Starscream down before his disadvantages caught up with him. Arm bending at the elbow hinge to swing low, trying to catch Starscream across the face - but the seeker was out of his line of attack with a sharp twist. Wings pulled tight when he dodged to the left. Adjust. Megatron swung his arm wide in the direction of his foe and was met with the weight of Starscream’s torso, a low crunch, and the shrill pierce of talons in his armor.

“There’s still some life in you.” Starscream huffed, thrusters lit and burning across the floor to level off Megatron’s strength keeping them at a stand still where the seeker clawed into his arm.

“Haven’t killed me yet.” He grinned and pulled the arm towards himself, along with Starscream who was unable to detach in time, and smashed his battering ram of a head into Starscream’s.

“Be careful!” Vega yelled, likely to Starscream, but Megatron couldn’t focus. The reverberation of pain was miscalculated and his cranial sensors flared in pain and static. Blindly he grabbed for Starscream’s wing, needed to keep him in range, but the seeker was able to unhook claws from Megatron’s armor and dropped out of his proximity. Slow to recover, visuals recalibrating just as the seeker’s talons catch him across the jaw in a startling pain.

“You’re insane!” Starscream warned, sharpened denta bared as bright colored fuel dripped from his mouth. Megatron realized he was smiling.

“Yes.” Agreed as Starscream clicked thrusters, trying to bolt overhead and spin Megatron around. But the former-warlord was faster than Starscream predicted, curled a fist and swung into Starscream’s unprotected side - much like he had with Vega - and sent Starscream rolling across the cargo bay floor. Which was a stupid mistake. Starscream, now out of reach, collected himself. Slipping on a stuttering gear only once before he was rising a few feet off the ground, talons wide and focus flickering around Megatron - deciding his next target.

Megatron felt himself crashing.

A bizarre feeling, even with Starscream’s frantic attempts to fix what damages his self-repair had caused. The world was growing numb. Proximity awareness down to a minimal 17% so if his visuals went offline he would be practically dead in the water. Rerouted energy focus to his limbs, lowered protocols to stabilize armor casings during an attack. It would keep him moving but there would be less strength behind his punches. Fine. Starscream just needed to get close enough. In the air seekers were terrifying grapplers, but on pedes, gravity - artificial or otherwise - worked against them.

“Vega, you see what Starscream is doing?” He yelled, causing his foe to hesitate as they began to circle one another. Predatory and instinctual. A familiar dance with his second. He kept Starscream’s hovering legs in focus while trying to distract him. “He’s trying to get me to chase him, which we both know I cannot without greatly exhausting myself.”

“Then you should surrender.” Starscream snapped, grin still wide over his darkening face - but his pedes still remained tense so Megatron kept circling.

“It’s a cowards tactic.” He announced, not daring to take his sight off Starscream’s lower half so he missed the look of irritation from the other. “One you should never attempt. Starscream is used to cowardly acts. Unable to fight nobly.”

“I love it when you talk about me.” Starscream curled a laugh and still they circled, mocking him wouldn’t be enough and he certainly couldn’t enter Starscream’s space without losing a limb. He could hardly think past the blaring alarms in his processors and he was forced to work faster than basic protocols to keep himself upright. “When is it my turn to call you names?”

Immune to personal insults then? Fine. Megatron believed now was the opportunity to confirm a suspicion and draw Starscream near.

“Vega, I’m truly sorry your Kare thinks so little of you he didn’t even show you how to fight.”

Starscream’s thrusters burst with energy, pedes darting back less than a second before he drives himself forward into Megatron’s space. Cursing something in the glass language of Vos as his talon tries to take out Megatron’s throat. Prepared, Megatron raises an arm against the screaming in his head, takes the full impact of Starscream’s attack, and only by the grace of his weight and stance, isn’t thrown aside.

“You shut up!” Starscream could easily regain advantage, snapping in Megatron’s face with an open fury. Talons began to drag across his armor - but careful enough that they don’t dig deep enough to clip major functions. One narrowly avoids a fuel line in his side and he’s struggling to capture Starscream’s wrists before the seeker decides to be done with this and kill Megatron for real. Only the fusion cannon keeps Starscream at bay, it’s bulk serving as an additional barrier to the thrashing seeker and just inside his periphery Megatron can see Vega struggle to act. Time to end this.

Megatron let’s Starscream sink talons into his collar as he grabs the seeker’s hips and roughly slots their mouths together.

He feels Starscream’s mouth part form shock, the smallest noise dying between them as talons spread and freeze on his armor. Their optics meet, wide and startled, and Megatron scraps his glossa against Starscream’s hard mouth - a shudder runs it course through the slighter frame and something possessively warm erupts in Megatron’s spark...before he squeezes the other’s hips and hurls him to the ground.

“Starscream!” Vega yelps as Megatron’s wide pede slams down onto the seeker’s prone form, Starscream gasping in the sudden pain as a crack forms on his cockpit. Vega already approaching, arms raised as he aims his own cannons to level with Megatron's spark. But it's too late as both he and his creator jump as the fusion cannon swells in a low charge on Megatron’s arm and faces Starscream’s unprotected helm.

“You-You can’t do that!”

“Apparently, I can.” Megatron keeps himself upright and does not submit to the pain dragging it’s way through his body. No longer needed to struggle against Starscream, he keeps his weapon pointed downwards as Vega watches them. He looks horrified, pulling weapons off target and raising claws to surrender. Megatron is satisfied.

“Let him go.”

“Vega, don’t approach!” Starscream chokes when Megatron shifts weight onto the seeker below - shrinking in the discomfort but Megatron knows how to control his body. Knows how to hurt, and how to simply disable. Dizzy from failing systems and fuel dripping down his limb. 

“Now that I finally have your attention.” Megatron addresses Starscream, but keeps his focus on the young jet, unpredictable and careless. He could get himself hurt. “I have some questions I would like answered in truth. For once.”

“You could have just asked,” Starscream can’t help but to snark, claws dug into Megatron’s leg, slowly realizing something and looking all the more pathetic for it. Good. Megatron didn’t dislike that face on his former-second. Helpless. Upended. Tricked. It was a long-overdue punishment. “You--- wait---what did you say---”

“Always underestimating me, Starscream, has been your failing since you began to diverge from the Decepticon cause.” He watches Vega trying to puzzle out the situation. Watches claws flex and optics shift. He still hasn’t caught on but the low rumble of Starscream below is unmistakably furious and ashamed. Megatron doesn’t have much time, the brittle bulbs from the halls he’s been stealing over the past few solar days will burn out soon. The trick will only last for so much longer. “Starscream, this question is for you,”

The dark seeker bared his teeth the same as Starscream. It made Megatron shake his head, endlessly charmed as he lifts his weight from Starscream’s frame. The seeker let out a sharp gasp, clutching the scuffed and sore location - but didn’t pull himself away from Megatron.

“Did you ever think to teach your sparkling that you’ve never won against me?”

Then he crashes.

* * *

 

**The Past**

 

“Then we die with honor!”

Death? Is that what this was? Starscream never expected death to be so...scruffy. A skittering chaos of destruction and panic where he was not the cause. Far from home, the cruel emptiness of foreign space where a planet of organic rot awaited them like a grave with open servos. He missed Cybertron. He missed Vos.

“We’ll die for nothing!” What was it all for if they had no idea of victory in the end? Should this really be their death? The end of the Decepticons? Letting their enemies crawl around and force them to this crude finale? “This CANNOT be our final stand. I won’t allow it!” Starscream can’t reach Skywarp or Thundercracker despite his endless attempts. There’s hope, the smallest warmth of their presence out there in the chaos of laser fire and battling ships. He feels seekers dying in the dark and cold and he knows Thundercracker is hurt - but can’t reach him. What has he done?

Then there’s Megatron, fuel dripping from the damage to his helm - does he even notice there are sparks and exposed wire? Has Soundwave told him? Their fearless leader playing that role, ready to fight and die for his stubborn ideals. Willing to watch his army burn to avoid a surrender. Starscream would rather surrender and live, escape, fight again than to accept death. His pride is great but his coding is greater. Survival. That’s what Decepticons do, like the earth roaches who would rule that horrid planet one day. Struggling against the odds. Adapting. Suffering the humiliation of defeat to claim victory at a later time...not this.

“Flee if you must.” His leader speaks and there is give to the ship, falling apart beneath their pedes as the bridge lights with warning alarms and monotone Soundwave watches just past Megatron’s shoulder, awaiting orders. Mindless and obedient. Not a screw in their frame of independent thought! The other would let Megatron die first than betray an order!

And it’s poor time to realize just how much Starscream does not want to see Megatron fall. His thoughts processing faster than Megatron’s mouth. Tenths of a klik for hours of information, for Starscream to know that despite it all: he cannot suffer Megatron to die. He doesn’t want to see him die...but that is what his leader is asking of him. _Die with us_ in such noble words and Starscream wants to grab him by the collar, shake him until he sees reason! If he would die for the Decepticons, why can’t he live instead?!

_[How would you save him?]_ Soundwave reaches out with their internal communications as Megatron prepares to berate him or inspire him. The universe practically slowed and frozen in time as Starscream watches the warlord, the one he so carelessly handed his destiny over to so long ago.

A crime that Starscream still adores him.

[I would knock his aft unconscious and throw him into an escape pod.] Answers, uncaring if this is a trick. What could get worse? How could Soundwave use this against him? [I would tell the Decepticons to flee. Let them think they have won then watch Megatron return and obliterate them at their victory table.]

“Make the end of your time mean something.”

The end of his time with Megatron? Once Starscream believed he would be the force behind that. The insanity on earth, their bickering and in fighting all for what? Nothing. No good came of it and they barely managed to scrape together a truce before taking the war back into the stars. Just for this bloody end. He’d always vowed allegiance to the Decepticons over whatever charismatic speech Megatron gave. Damn his poetry. Damn his spark. Starscream would be a traitor to his one loyalty if he let it all fall apart now.

_[We will not let him perish.]_ Soundwave’s voice was a terrible promise against Starscream’s processor. As tangible as a whisper against his sensor. He took in the sight of Megatron, proud and injured with optics hardened against the inevitable death they would face if Starscream, like so many times before, did not protect him. Them. _[Megatron. Must. Survive.]_

Starscream grinned, bitter, but Megatron must have seen it as acceptance. [What a time to agree with me Soundwave.]

They tell Megatron of Shockwave’s old lab, the escape pod he believes can be used as a point of exit and perhaps allow enough cover for Megatron to reach Prime for one final skirmish. It’s easy to convince him with Soundwaves monotone “agreement” and Starscream swallows jealousy that even now Megatron is moved by his third in command faster than Starscream. But of course he would be - having always taken Soundwave’s advice as priority.

_[Not the time.]_ Soundwave flickers through his processor and Starscream blasts the other with loud cursing for daring to intrude upon his thoughts.

“We can eject the pod at the same time as an eruption from the gravitational pull. They won’t suspect.” Megatron stays close to Starscream as they move, unaware of the large crack running down his helm, his overheating louder than Starscream’s thoughts. He must be in pain, but whether or not it registered to his leader was unknown. Megatron had always handled pain better than others.

[I’ll subdue Megatron with my null ray. It will have to be close range, his armor has been modified too many times against me.] Starscream senses Soundwave’s pride and subsequent irritation at the obvious reasons /why/ that might be. [You tend to the control panels, I’ll distract Megatron.]

_[Your intentions?]_

Starscream doesn’t respond, servos busy guiding Megatron as the large mech begins to sway and doesn’t react to his own lack of balance. Something in Starscream’s spark twists uneasily and he reaches out for his trine once more with no return. They’re out there but all Starscream can do is exert energy trying to convey in emotion for them to flee. Run. Escape. He secures the lab door behind them and Soundwave goes to tend to the lab’s control center. All that’s left is to find a way to bring Megatron down before the once-gladiator realizes his intentions. Injured or not, he will always wield the superior instincts of a warrior and this will be difficult.

The ship gives a violent shake while Starscream tries to get a better look at his leader's injury and he’s left with Megatron’s servo gripping him. Wing brushing a warm frame and Starscream can only rely on frustration to keep from falling apart. He threatens, they bicker, he wants to smile and purr another insult but then Megatron is looking down at him with a certain gentleness that Starscream was not prepared for.

It happened now and then, he’d catch his leader watching him or would interrupt an almost pleasant moment with that stupid face of his. Strong and regal for an entity born from the lowest scraps of society - meant to be a King in some world. Meant for so much more than they will accomplish in this life it seems. Starscream hates him and simultaneously cannot imagine losing him and his processors haven’t figured that out in millions of years.

“Do you have any regrets, My Lord?” Megatron almost grins at the title, alike a pet name for them and it all feels too intimate for a brief moment. As if they are millions of stellar cycles younger, standing before great gates of an underground ring. Cheering fans and fuel pumping thick in their lines. A countdown to the show - eager and free. Lights flash and the pressure of a crashing ship begins to tear the outer structures. A groan of metal like a waking titan deafens the world past Megatron’s voice.

“I am glad you are here.”

_[Starscream.]_

He doesn’t mean to cut into the underside of armor with claws modified designed to do just that. Dragging Megatron to his height, using to his advantage the uneasy way his leader stands, unbalanced and weakened by the injury. It’s a dirty trick but he has no options, can’t focus past the basic need of closing his mouth over Megatron’s. It’s hardly a kiss, crooked and sore as the other doesn’t react in time. Letting Starscream dominate the moment with a desperation unmatched by the chaos outside.

He can feel Megatron’s spark chamber warm where their frames meet. Breaks his violent kiss to see optics wide with surprise and the quiet realization of what a tragedy they’ve become. He thinks of a time when all he ever wanted was this: and it only aches to know how they will never have a chance if he doesn't do this.

“I promise.” There is a calmness Starscream has not felt in many years. Since his early days weaving effortlessly through the spires of Vos - or as he knelt before Megatron, young and desperate. Vowing allegiance, loyalty, his spark and his future to the newly crowned lord of Decepticons. He feels a peace as absolute as the searing pain of twin brands scalding Megatron’s mark into his wings. His nullray goes unnoticed as it charges, pressed into the exposed layer of Megatron’s torso. “I will always regret so much more than you.”

He fires, and breaks all his vows.

* * *

  **Present**

 

He was growing more than exhausted of coming back online with a sense of distortion to his world and anger at Starscream.

Optics flare to life, visual readouts diminished by a rapid succession of reboots.  Slow to reach working order and examine himself. Similar in statis to where Starscream had repaired him before, save for the quick weld marks across his frame from angry talons. Still alive then and the thought was only in minor disappointment as being alive meant yet again Starscream had been free to pick at his unconscious form and do who knows what to it.

A small whine at his side, adjusting to the dark medical room, and he sees Vega asleep on the floor. Large black wings flickering in recharge. Broad body laying on his front - snoring in his deep voice unsuited for a jet his age. Megatron snuffs a laugh and sits up carefully, the lack of an immediate and painful haze appreciated.

Starscream is across the room watching him. Optics soft red lights of a predator in the dark, data pad lowered in his lap. Megatron doesn’t startle, having a strange comfort settle knowing he is not there with the fledgling alone. There’s a netting square over the seeker’s waist and his cheek looks freshly polished, but no worse for wear. Megatron had been going easy on him after all (he wishes he could say that with honesty). On the floor Vega shifts and Megatron glances at Starscream in concern.

[He was worried about you.] Starscream commed him, and Megatron was surprised to see that function had been repaired. [It’s been three solar days.]

**[And once again you keep me from death.]** He answers with minimal sarcasm. There is much more to discuss than either seem ready for, and Megatron is simply too tired to process the confirmation that Starscream procreated. **[Why would he be worried?]** Last Vega had seen Megatron had the fusion cannon aimed at his Kare’s head. (It’s not so much a surprise the cannon has been taken from him, limb light where it was removed.)

As if hearing his thoughts Starscream gives a short huff of amusement. Stands from the chair and moves to control a panel screen. Megatron feels something cool and pain-alleviating drip into his system. He doesn’t fight it.

[I'm impressed, you managed to trick me after all this time.] How elegant Starscream’s sharp and terrible features look in the dark. Only the distorted glow of holo-screens and twitching readouts to cling to each pleasing line of his face. [As I said before, you were not forgotten.]

**[I feel forgotten.]** Rumbles outwardly and a talon closes over his shoulder, an attempt at comfort. Just behind Starscream’s dark wings Vega recharges peacefully. Undisturbed by more than an uncomfortable floor. **[When I was his age, I was already a miner, fighting against a world that wished to see my spark broken.]** A surge of protective instinct rolls over him, unexpected but nothing he feels he needs to fight.

[And because of you - he is not suffering a similar fate.] Starscream holds a soft and pleasant expression on his face, moving the servo from Megatron’s form in a slow slide of touch before dimming the panel lights and taking a step back. [You’re much too fragile to be up so late. Why don’t you rest further? I’m sure Vega will be excited for his training.]

**[You’re not throwing a fit, even after--]**

Starscream interrupts quietly, “I said, defeat me. You defeated me. Besides it was only a minor crash. Nothing I, in my genius, couldn’t fix.” He preens for a moment before glancing towards the young seeker on the floor. “I’ll get him up.”

“No,” Megatorn shakes his helm. “Let him sleep.” He shifts on the medical bench, allowing Starscream to leave his direct line of sight for the first time since he’s been returned to his Second’s company. “You should also rest. You’ve gotten slow in your old age.” He laughs when Starscream smacks the underside of his leg with a claw, cursing him in Vosian with a short smile on his face.

“Rest well, my lord..”


	4. Scale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sire: Ser  
> Creator: Kare  
> Megatron still a gunformer in this timeline. But that’s subject to change pretty soon.
> 
> And as always, please excuse any egregious grammatical errors and misspellings, I’m never one to edit past a general review

 

“You lied to me.”

Two sets of red optics turn to one another, discussing something in the minor flick of wings and the tilt of their bodies.

“Technically, really, I didn’t.” Starscream raises a talon in protest and Megatron withholds the urge to push him from the perch.

“Lies of _omission_ count.” He growls and both Starscream and Vega make a face that’s startling similar. It’s upsetting, or endearing, now seeing the two as familial only leaves Megatron to count the endless ways they resemble one another.

After his “recovery” from the minor-crash (There was no such thing as a minor-crash. Starscream just seemed unwilling to discuss the potential danger now that Megatron had stabilized. But he did not miss how the seeker watched him carefully) Megatron had physically trapped both seekers in the canteen. Vega was obedient and had sat down while Starscream, of course, fought him. Just like old times. Only when Megatron attempted to pluck Starscream off his pedes to stop him from leaving had the seeker surrendered to his fate with a hiss, slouching on the table’s edge.

“And now we’re back to a conversation where I ask, why you think you needed to know, and you bore me with your answer.” Starscream didn’t try to contain his flat annoyance - even with his grown sparkling looking apprehensive to his left.

Starscream was a parent.

How terrifying.

“Why did you hide it from me?” Demanded, ignoring Starscream entirely and instead focusing on Vega. The only other sane mech on the ship. (Possibly. Who knew what being raised by Starscream left you in terms of mental capacities).

“I was under orders.” Glances to Starscream seeking validation.

“Why?” Megatron pressed, arms crossed over his bulky chest, staring down the two with a thin glare. “What difference would it have made to me?” To this, Starscream laughed.

“Tell me you didn’t wake with an all-consuming desire to murder me?” He snapped, smile cruel as it uncurled. “You think I wanted you to have a second target for your ire? I had no way of knowing if you’d listen to reason, should I put him in danger?” Starscream, known for jumping to conclusions, always following the more dramatic line of thought. It had caused plenty of arguments between them in the past where the natural paranoia of the jet had disrupted their weakening comradery over time. At least in Megatron’s opinion.

“You think I’d kill your child because I was upset with you?” Megatron almost kicked the table in frustration. Starscream’s expression remained passive and unattentive while Vega seemed to suffer under the tension. It was impossible now not to see Vega for the child he was. Struggling to seem grown while playing a game of adults. Megatron pitied him but for a moment. This young beast of a jet who stumbled over Tarnish and nearly offlined in embarrassment when he complimented Megatron before.

“You realize the longer we’re stuck here being yelled at, the more opportunity Skycrux has to fly this ship into a star because he’s bored?” Starscream added, as typically unhelpful as he’s ever been. Though Vega’s added expression implied the potential of catastrophe was not far from possible.

“Vega, you are dismissed.” It would be useless trying to have an open conversation with Starscream as the seeker would be more focused keeping a certain version of himself up for his creation. In response, Vega rises from his seat only for his parent to snatch him roughly by the arm.

“You don’t command _him_.” Starscream barked and Vega moved to sit back down, awkwardly trying to fit his wings around the bench. Looking satisfied by his child’s obedient response Starscream patted the side of his dark hip. “But, actually, you are dismissed. You’re behind in your studies.”

Vega and Megatron both gave the seeker elder a look of frustration.

Megatron mouthing, “I hate you” to Starscream’s smug look as the hybrid seeker cautiously rose once more, glancing between the two of them, before setting his jaw and moving towards the exit. Megatron lifted his arm as Vega passed, settling a large servo on the other’s armored shoulder. A small gesture meant to reassure the fledgling that he was not planning on killing his parent.

Maybe.

He was not expecting the look Vega gave him in return, both startled and something else, before ducking from reach and almost tripping out the door.

“I can’t decide if he fears me or is disappointed in me?” Megatron commented, keeping an optic on Starscream’s ever slippery form. The seeker only seemed amused by the observation.

“A little of both. It’s not everyday you meet your hero.”

“Come again?” He blinked as Starscream began to examine his hideous talons, glimmering in the harsh lights.

“You’re _The Great Megatron_. Hero of Decepticons, defender of justice and terror of worlds. As far as that child knows you were the most righteous creature in history. He was raised by your _disciples_ afterall. Oh how they love to twist history for their benefit.” Vega had mentioned growing up in the establishment of the Decepticon colony, the family Megatron’s soldiers had created for him. Yet - Crux had mentioned the lack of Starscream and Vega in recent years. Interesting.

Still his vents puffed in pride at the thought of his legacy surviving his less-than appropriate removal from the narrative of war.

“Does he also know what role his kare did in my supposed death?” This drew a thin look from the seeker, pushing him into defensive territory was always a stupid idea, yet Megatron never learned.

“It’s not exactly common knowledge amongst your insipid fans.” He spoke flatly, not quite answering the question.

“They were your soldiers too, Starscream.” Megatron tries to remind him but how long had it been since Starscream cared for the Decepticons? Certainly before Megatron was trapped in the limbo of space while Starscream lived on. A parent.

“How did you know?” Voice cautious, leaning forward. “That he was mine?”

Megatron kept himself from looking at the other like he was stupid.

“I’ve known you for how many millions of years Starscream, and you’ve only ever cared for two things: Yourself. And that you create.” Megatron considered the surprised look on his second’s face a victory. Starscream was always thinking little of his intelligence, good to know he could still catch the little sneak off guard. But there was an edge of sincerity he couldn’t withhold. “Vega’s pride when speaking of you goes beyond a simple adolescent in awe of a superior. It drew me to look closer and only confirmed in your reaction during our skirmish.” And had little time to consider the constant danger he was in, aboard a ship with only Starscream and the children of his once-elite trine as crew.

Shivered in memory at the many, many ways the three seekers had made his life hell before.

“You afthead.” Was Starscream’s intelligent response, but he was still fighting a grin regardless. “He’s far too earnest to be mine sometimes.” A soft comment and Megatron felt the tide shift, they were approaching safer grounds, defused by Starscream’s obvious and endless pride of his creation. He’d never thought to consider Starscream a candidate for a parent before - but thinking on it now there were two outcomes in such scenario as Starscream had only two reactions to anything:

Utter dismissal and lack of interest, bordering on seething hatred.

Or allowing something to consume his entire existence.

It was clear which category his care for Vega fell under.

“So. Now you know.” Starscream remained still as Megatron crossed the distance, settling down in the seat nearest Starscream’s outstretched legs. His arm brushed dark metal and noted that Starscream didn’t pull away in disgust as he might have years ago. “What changes?”

“Nothing.” Answers too quickly. “I still intend to train him, he’s scraping by at best now but lacks your speed. He did not inherit your natural grace. Throws himself around as if he’s a fraction his size. I’m sure in the air he’s lethal as you, can’t imagine your offspring being anything less. If he’s grounded though, he’ll be in danger.” He looks up to find Starscream watching with a strange expression that Megatron cannot place. Like surprise but less harsh. “What?”

“Nothing.” The seeker huffed, Starscream failed to conceal his smile with his talons in time. “You’re just the same as I remember.”

“A bad thing?”

“The absolute worst.” The seeker groaned and Megatron could accept that. Just as Megatron was beginning to see plenty of things different. Just because he was unchanged, did not mean the universe was not. “So long as you can abide by certain rules, you’re free to train him. I wouldn’t recommend anything too hefty. You’re still falling apart like a waterlogged rust bucket.” Megatron feels talons light against his helm, the harsh seam of Starscream’s repairs granting little fortification against the mess inside. Every moment he could feel the sheer _wrong_ bleeding across his systems, but there was still time before reaching Krato Thrice and the promise of recovery.

“Agreed.” Then stupidity took the hand of curiosity as he pondered Vega. His size and build...Starscream’s past and the only mech the seeker had ever shown tenderness for. “What of his sire?”

Starscream’s talon clips the edge of his helm with the same abrupt return of tension between them.

“What has Vega told you?” Starscream’s voice takes a dangerous turn. Something more than suspicion and less than anger.

“Nothing.” Answers honestly, because Megatron finds himself needing to know: Who could have mated with Starscream? Not a seeker and apparently not good enough to keep around. There had only been one mech to ever be the focus of Starscream’s tenderness in all their time together...Megatron found he couldn’t bear to ask by name. “But it might be beneficial to his training.” This time, an outright lie.

Starscream chuckles at his side and glancing him over Megatron sees a weary expression face the memory before it is smothered by a sharp smile.

“Oh isn’t it obvious? The only mech worth my time and attention of course,” He purrs, drawing a talon against Megatron’s cheek.

Megatron abruptly did not want to know the answer.

“Our very own Shockwave.”

 

…

 

After Starscream had picked himself off the floor laughing,calling Megatron an endless bounty of names for _thinking_ he’d ever let that _“One-eyed know it all breast bot”_ anywhere near him, Starscream gave Megatron the security codes for the entire ship. There would be only one location large enough to work with Vega in even simple exercises and the cargo hold needed to be reorganized. Starscream supervised, but did not help past snapping at Megatron not to blow out his backstrut as Vega joined him. Following direction with un-Starscream like ease and also allowing Megatron to gauge how strong the jet truly was.

It was clear Starscream was not interested in sharing the identity of Vega’s other parent, but he supposed that was his right. There were surely enough mechs in the universe Megatron had never met and in turn, if it were some individual he knew, Megatron felt better in the dark. He was quite taken with Vega despite the young jet’s similarities to Starscream slipping through with sarcasm and a frown now and then. Megatron would hate to have that opinion ruined by Starscream’s taste in mechs...

And after three solar days of watching Vega closely, Megatron decided he looked nothing like a pale transport shuttle.

Of course things did not settle into peace after Starscream’s secret was out. There were still bickering moments, Starscream’s outright refusal to give Megatron any responsibility more than train Vega. With such a small crew, regardless of onboard navigation, there was still plenty to do. Megatron had already reached the end of his minimal patience, waiting around like a forgotten child’s toy in hope of being made useful. Even Skycrux, whom he expected to take after his parents and have a casual relationship with rules, was strict with Starscream’s orders and wouldn’t permit Megatron from aiding in any of his minimal tasks. But that didn’t stop the violet seeker from continuing following Megatron around some days, talking far too much and driving him mad.

At least he was permitted to train Vega, the only reprieve from his current life of waiting.

“Lower.” He corrected Vega’s stance once more, forcing the jet’s knee to bend and his torso to fall closer to the ground. He would learn through practice how to maintain stability and where to shift his weight. For now Megatron wanted him to become familiar with the motions of close quarter fighting and how to take a punch. A seeker’s methods were not to be hit at all, using speed over all else which is how Starscream managed to dominate his kin during their years at war. But Vega did not have his kare’s strengths and would need some adjustment in what he relied on.

“You're not keeping your legs braced to dodge.” Megatron chided .

“Why would I need to dodge, I can fly.” Not for the first time Megatron wishes Starscream would allow him to disable Vega's wings. Keep him from solely relying on flight to win a battle.

Starscream about shot Megatron for punching Vega on the first day of training. Jumping off the boxes of strapped down cargo and pushing Megatron aside. Threatening all kinds of horror and tragedies if Megatron so much as dented the other’s faceplate. Vega was fine, reassured his creator the same, but Starscream and Megatron fought for a solid hour over it. By the time they came to an understanding (Both screaming _”FINE!”_ with snarls and bared denta) Vega had already left the cargo hold, found later reading in the observatory and seemed to not want to speak with either his parent or his new mentor.

Watching Starscream flounder at the lack of attention from his sparkling was a strange and hysterical thing. The seeker began with threats and ended with promising Vega all sorts of things once they reached Krato Thrice. Being manipulated with the same ease as Starscream once wielded himself. Megatron would have to keep that in mind as Starscream realized he was tricked later and informed Megatron of several weak points in his sparkling’s fighting style. Just so Megatron never lost advantage.

“Vega, tighten your wings.” Starscream called out from his favored perch on cargo containers, strapped tight and sealed from even Megatron’s minimal scans. “He’s likely to tear them off if you don’t pay attention.” Vega looked stressed, being lectured from both sides of the room and Megatron found he couldn’t do much to send Starscream off, he was correct after all. Fighting anything with protruding limbs or wings might be intimidating until you grab ahold of them and regain control of the fight.

“Remember, left shoulder always facing me.” Patted the seeker’s dark pauldron and Vega adjusted his footing. They could do little more than exercises and slow spars to train Vega’s battle computer. Get him more at ease predicting movements versus relying solely on percentages flashing across his processor. He seemed dumb to the idea of ignoring statistics and it was quite similar to Starscream back in the day. Arguing over strategy and what Starscream /knew/ versus what Megatron /felt/.

“He’s too much like you.” Megatron commented to the seeker elder after training, his own joints sore from allowing Vega to practice disarming moves on him - at least until Starscream yelled at them both and made Crux the new test dummy. “Intelligent but stubborn. Unwilling to admit he doesn’t know everything.”

“Is that an insult?” Starscream hummed, beaming with pride from the observation. Legs dangling beside Megatron as he rested against stacked boxes. Letting young seekers practice. “Because I’m inclined to disagree. I think he’s like his sire.”

“Oh?” Megatron felt himself tighten at the offering, the kept information which shouldn’t matter. Starscream nodded in agreement, giving nothing more, and nudging at Megatron until he could reach the back of his pauldrons. Deft servos shifting a plate open, running a hard knuckle down a tension belt working out the sharp twinge of failed upkeep. Megatron had become so used to Starscream’s servos all over him that he didn’t fight, allowed the motion because honestly: it felt amazing.

They watched Vega trying to disarm Skycrux a few moments longer, both startled into laughter as the violet seeker warped out and back in to trip the larger. Vega, embarrassed, began chasing the smaller jet until they began battering one another around like the children they were. The cargo hold echoed in peaceful laughter and very briefly it felt very much like old times.

“You should break that up.” Starscream’s voice was much closer now as the low purr of his vocalizer could be felt against Megatron’s helm. Realizing gold servos were resting over his shoulders, adjusting the tension just beneath his mantle. Megatron turned and could brush his cheek against the seeker’s dark helm. Starscream didn’t flinch. “You’re better at being a kill-joy than me. Besides, I want him to like you less.” His smile was keeping something from being said and Megatron was unsure whose heat pooled between them as Starscream pushed him away with a gentle nudge.

“You’re trying to command me now?.” He spoke, rolling shoulders to shift where his chest plate had been moved, Starscream’s exploring claws having brushed the scratches inside the metal where the same serpent-tongue seeker had been before. Kissed him. Ruined his chance for a gladiator’s end.

“You wish.” Starscream maintained his smile, resting the point of his chin against his palm, curling digits around his wicked mouth. Only then did Megatron notice the ugly gold talons were no longer present. Just the natural claws of a similar metallic tone resting on the seeker’s grinning lips.

Now if only he were red.

The next day he was woken by Vega and a new itinerary. Starscream assigning him duties and a schedule by which to complete them. Any annoyance at being bossed about by the seeker was lost at the relaxing thought of being able to occupy the endless hours of the day with work. A reprieve from drowning in his thoughts and stillness of this new world.

“Looks like he’s starting to trust you.” Vega commented as they tended to minor engine repair. The young seeker seemingly eager to show off his knowledge of the system, leaving Megatron little more than to hand him tools and warn him if his wings were dropping too near an open power cell

“Starscream trusts no one.” Megatron corrected and for the seventh time pushed Vega’s dropping wing back into place so it wasn’t fried. “It’s amazing he was able to survive the war and what came after. He’s not known for making friends.” There’s a skittering charge and the engine seems receptive to whatever Vega is doing. Reminds Megatron of the many times security had to chase Starscream out of the Nemesis’ engine rooms while the seeker whined about “upgrades”. Pouting all the way to Megatron’s throne until given an assignment to distract him from his destructive need to “improve” things. Starscream’s pride over his work faded over time. His experiments more dangerous, risks more careless until Megatron stripped Starscream of access to labs or materials all together. For his own safety and for Megatron’s peace of mind.

Couldn’t help but wonder how much of Starscream losing his way was the fault of the war or his own?

“He was your second in command. He must have proven himself somewhere along the way.” Vega reminded. Megatron pulled from sour thoughts and glancing upwards where the large seeker paused in his work to gauge Megatron’s reaction. Recalling he was speaking to Starscream’s child, making it difficult not to feel uncomfortable dismissing the other’s accomplishments. He could only growl in annoyance.

“Your creator is a brilliant mech. A lethal opponent, intelligent and creative in ways others could only envy.” It only burned a little to say such things. “He just also had to despise me on top of that. Made for difficult working spaces at times. But do not mistake my complaints as regret. I can’t imagine my life without him.” Spared no grimace for Vega’s sake but it was true. Starscream had been integral to the cause early on. Denying such would be a lie for pride’s sake.

“Strange.” Vega only gives a half smile and seemed almost thrilled with the answer given. Commenting before shuffling back to his work, “Kare said a similar thing about you.” Megatron frowns at this, wondering how much of Vega’s information was solely from Starscream’ perspective of things.

And for the first in some time Megatron considers having some fun.

 

…

 

Starscream slams a servo down on the station before him, the screen goes crazy with the sudden abuse and Megatron can only blink at him in calm surprise.

“You told him about the Trian quadrant?” Megatron smiled up at him. “What else did you say?!”

“Don’t worry.” Megatron leaned back in the station chair which only by a fraction accommodated his greater build. “I omitted the encounter with the Goliaths.” He was greatly pleased by the way Starscream shrivelled and withdrew as if under attack.

“You swore you would never speak of that again!” Hissed and looked around in case one of the younger jets were in audial range. “Don’t you EVER bring that up around my sparkling or I will actually throw you out of the airlock when you’re in recharge.” Starscream threatens but Megatron reaches up to brush his thumb against the darkening cheek of his faceplate.

“You don’t think Vega would enjoy a tale about how his parent seduced an entire planet?” Starscream slapped him away and stormed out cursing about needing a deep solvent soak and to scrub his processor. “What!” Megatron called after. “I thought your song of courtship was beautiful!”

He was laughing until Starscream returned with a nullray raised.

 

…

 

Megatron dreams of stars often. Floating in an endless space of silence, alone, knowing something is keeping him tethered long enough that the dark does not swallow him whole. Sensory dreams which grow increasingly terrible until he wakes. Unable to hold onto details with clarity like images slipping away in a fog.

He did not dream much before, and especially did not bother to remember them-as dreams were simply cycling processions of data warped in recharge. Minimal function unable to fully compute information and leaving just the edges to create nonsensical images.

He did not think to mention these to Starscream when the other was picky about check ups. Quietly worrying Megatron’s work with Vega was too much for an already strained system. On the contrary, Megatron was feeling better since training began, regardless how simple the sessions were. Forcing parts to engage, utilizing sleeping programs felt natural. Regardless how Starscream tried to hide the scan results he knew his overall functions were stabilizing.

But the more dreams he had, the more he found himself waking wandering the hallways of a stolen ship, searching for something. Until recently only once had he been caught, walking in on Vega’s studies at the observatory - the first time the incident occured. But with more frequent moments, blinking awake standing in the halls late into what they’d assigned as “night” Megatron was beginning to grow concerned.

“How’s the helm?” Starscream stroked the jaw guard with a bent finger and Megatron wasn’t fast enough to brush him away. “Any new pains?” Wondering if Starscream had always been so quick to touch or if this was a new confidence. He tried recalling the first seasons with the impossible seeker, but the beginning of the war was so muddled. He had few memories that weren’t corrupted by his own perspective. He remember Starscream with his trine. Deadly. Efficient. Lovely. Growing only more so as time went on. Existing closer in one another’s orbit the higher in rank Starscream rose.

He remembered being kissed by the seeker and wondering why that was their first time, before he sought to die.

“Megatron?”

“What?” Jerked back from his thoughts as Starscream watched him with suspicion, optics dimmed in his direction.

“I asked, if anything new hurt?”

He thought on the dreams, the feeling of searching for something lost.

“No.” He lies with confidence. “In fact I am feeling better. Could your sparkling have a healer’s spark? From his sire perhaps?” He watches Starscream react with a face twisting in disgust.

“Don’t be stupid.” Flashes his wings and types something into the medical drone who proceeds to chirp and upload something into Megatron’s connection. He watches three systems reset on his display and three less systems are at threat of crashing. “You’re feeling better because you get to boss someone around again. Your favorite past time.” The same could be said of Starscream but with the further need of the seeker’s intelligence to keep him alive, Megatron didn’t share his observation.

The drones and scans retract, Starscream careful when resealing his cranial panels and where this was usually when Starscream chased him out of the medical bay, the seeker instead rested the flat of his servo across Megatron’s chest. Right above where the dark insignia used to be.

“It won’t be too much longer before we reach the neutral settlement.” He began tone a touch grave. “You require a great deal of bodywork, upgrades, new system refitting and your coding will have to be entirely manufactured to get past Cybertronian scanners. It’s not a death sentence to be an ex-Decepticon but if we want to go unnoticed I need you to understand all of this is necessary.”

“Your point?” They’ve been over this, and while Megatron was interested in seeing the former Decepticons Hook and Scavenger he did have to wonder how they would react to him. For safety, Starscream claimed so few Decepticons knew Megatron’s true fate and even fewer knew he was alive now.

“Are you going to try and kill me once you’re strong enough?” Blunt. Strange for his seeker who preferred to twist and manipulate words. Starscream so rarely spoke plainly but in this moment Megatron saw him for what he was: afraid.

“Would you beg me not to?” That made Starscream laugh, but the underlying concern remained as he didn’t take optics off Megatron.

“I just want to be aware if Vega is going to be disappointed. I’d hate to kill you after you two have grown so close.” Once more there was something to his words that Megatron felt he could not grasp. A secret or a lie, who knew with Starscream. Who could ever predict him?

“Vega can’t grow if you smother him so much.” Megatron shifted from the bench, allowing Starscream’s question to go unanswered as he himself could not answer it. Admitting his conflict to Starscream would be dangerous, and he’s long since learned not to give the seeker any advantage.

Unfortunately for him, Megatron knew Starscream had long since held a possessive hook in him, and his sparkling was quick to endear himself.

Vega was a charming mech, for all that he was spoiled. Prone to scowling when disagreeing with orders given or when tasks did not turn out the way he planned. A perfectionist like his parent, without Starscream’s immunity to failure. If Starscream messed something up, he’d blame the nearest sentient body. If Vega failed, he moped about the ship or got sloppy during training. Megatron recognized the reaction for what it was. Frustration, anger, all things Megatron himself was made to conquer before he could rule the Decepticons.

The same faults that, when left unchecked, lead to greater disaster. And getting to know the young jet he knew it was only time before the lethal combination of Starscream’s emotional coding and whatever Vega’s Sire contributed reared an ugly head.

 

...

 

The first Megatron hears Starscream and Vega fight is within a week of their intended arrival at Krato Thrice. They are stopped to avoid a disruptive cloud of cosmic debris. It could add another week on travels and neither seeker fledglings are permitted to fly while the ship is unmoving, anchored in the dark of space for the time being. Megatron might have assumed claustrophobic youth was the fault of the sudden tension between kare and child, but it’s clear something else erupts between them.

He catches only the tail end of their argument, searching for Vega as the jet was late for their training and finds more than he expects. They don’t notice him yet stepping in the observatory, following a best guess and a bad feeling, and the room resembles a war zone. Tomes and data pads scattered in a fit as Vega reaches down and hurls another tablet across the room. It smashes in brittle pieces across the wall, far from his parent’s helm but Starscream’s expression is dangerous all the same.

“Look what you’re doing!” Starscream yells, snatching a tome from Vega’s claws before the younger has a chance to treat it the same. “I didn’t give these to you to disrespect!”

“What do you care?!” Vega is yelling, his voice deep for age and it booms across the sparse room. Reminds Megatron of his own temper. “You were only holding them out of guilt!” He goes to smash another data pad beneath his pede but Starscream is faster yet again. Shoving his child back a few steps, watching him stumble with an equally dark look across his young face. “He’s right you know.” Vega growls, wings vibrating at his shoulders. “You don’t trust anyone.” Starscream ignores him, picking up an armful of scattered tablets and tomes to keep them out of his destructive reach. This only seems to fuel Vega’s tantrum.

“You ask to be treated like you’re matured and you do things like this. I shouldn’t have brought you.”

“Those aren’t yours!” Vega goes to grab his parent’s arm, possibly to rip the items from his grasp, but Megatron already has a fist closed over the young jet’s wrist. Stopping him before he can reach Starscream.

“That’s enough!” He barks but does not shriek like the two seekers, pulling Vega away as the other is too horrified at Megatron’s presence to refuse. He looks shaken and sick, optics glancing to Starscream then back to Megatron. Anger bleeds out in favor of something small and humiliated.

“Megatron I--”

“Do. Not. Speak.” He warns and feels Starscream like a flare behind him. Furious or equally horrified, Megatron supposes he’ll discover soon. He drops his hold on Vega and gives no room for the fledgling to plead further. “Return to your quarters. Understood?”

“But Megatron I ---”

“Do you understand soldier?!”

Vega flinches, gaze cast behind Megatron but seems to find only another source of shame. He shrinks back, wings scraping the ground as he retreats. A pede steps in broken pieces of a smashed tablet and there’s a look of disbelief that flashes over him, like he couldn’t understand how the mess got there in the first place.

“Go Vega.” Megatron repeats, voice lighter but no less stern. The seeker hits the doorframe on his way out and the mechanical slide of the door shutting introduces a painful silence in the room. He turns to Starscream only to find him missing until he looks down. The seeker gathering the remainder of Vega’s books, the scuffed tablets, and seems unwilling to meet Megatron’s look. His wings are tense, a small vibration of anger shuddering across them every so often, but he doesn’t speak.

“What happened?”

“A child’s tantrum. That’s all.” Starscream finally answers and pauses when Megatron kneels to retrieve a datapad, hands it over. “It’s part of growing up. Didn’t you ever fight with your parent?”

“He seemed unusually upset.” Megatron observed and tried to put himself into Starscream’s sight, blocking the other’s eyeline of the door and his only escape. “What is going on?”

“Why do you care?” Came the sharp response and Starscream seemed to accept anger over the brewing hurt that was so clear in his expression. “By tomorrow he’ll be fine. He does this. He’s a child.”

“He’s old enough to know better.” Megatron snaps in turn and this was the wrong thing to say judging by Starscream’s look.

“He’s not your soldier. He’s not your _anything_.” For a moment Megatron wondered if Starscream was going to throw one of the data pads at his head next. “I think it’s something you both need to understand.”

“What are you talking about?” Megatron tries but Starscream is already trying to push past him. Find an escape so the moment ends on Starscream’s terms. Megatron does something stupid. Turning with the pushy seeker, trying to catch him around the arm but Starscream shifts out of the way. His wing is high in anger and without intention Megatron’s fingers dig into the flat of the metal for the smallest grip to slow the other down.

His fingers brush something else. The four point star, wide over Starscream’s wings, some unknown insignia Megatron has done his best to ignore. A reminder Starscream no longer belongs to him, but now to a world without Megatron. Without Decepticons.

They both go still in the same moment, Starscream’s face wide with horror as Megatron’s thumb catches the sunken edges beneath the flat star not nearly as thick as he first assumed. A patch giving way to familiar angles of the well-known shape beneath.

“Get off me.” Starscream isn’t moving but his voice is a low plea as Megatron ignores it entirely, catching his wing’s length and holding him there.

“You’re still branded.” He says in disbelief as he traces over the patch. Feeling the certain lines of a brand beneath. “After everything…”

“Get off of me!” He repeats louder and goes to shove Megatron away, but he falters and only shrugs into him. His wing caught beneath Megatron’s arm. Datapads and tomes scattered to the floor in the commotion. While he doesn’t try again, Starscream slouches away, denta bared and grinding where his head is turned. The slump of his body revealing his shame.

“You’re still branded.”

“Clearly!” Snarls as he digs leaner claws into his palms. “Can you let go?”

“Will you run away?”

“Probably.”

“Then no.” Megatron adjusts his grip until it feels more secure. Clutching the high arch of Starscream’s wing and another servo low on the seeker’s torso. He wouldn’t put it past Starscream to simply go limp in hopes of slithering away, but the position left him entirely vulnerable in case a null ray was shoved into his face. “Why are you still branded?” This was a different body, and who knew how many Starscream had shed in the years apart? The seeker had never seemed satisfied with his appearance, always eager to upgrade, shift, change when the opportunity showed itself. Trapped on earth Starscream had grown furious at the lack of options, claiming once that he felt trapped.

That Starscream was still branded meant he chose to be.

“You hate the Decepticons.”

Starscream clawed him across the pauldron in his reach, sparks and metal cried out in the brief moment, but Megatron did not let go.

“No!” He screeched yet didn’t struggle past digging those same claws into Megatron’s hip. “No I hated what we BECAME! I hated what you led us to! I hated that you would rather die than stay with us like we weren’t good enough to live for!”

“You didn’t give me a choice!” Now, Megatron yells, snatching Starscream’s wrist to twist out of his hip, backing the seeker up to observation window - the glass shivering at the dull collision. Empty space dotted in stars and fragments of the universe soared behind him and Megatron felt like they were back in that moment when they said goodbye.

“I tried to save you!” Starscream’s voice cracks behind sharp denta and he tries to push Megatron off him only to find the other’s weight unmoving. “For once in my miserable existence I chose to put myself in danger for the safety of another and you were still taken from me!”

“You could have asked me to stay!” Megatron pushes him back to the glass, full reach of his servo pressed across throat.

Starscream responds by digging three claws over his collar. “I did!”

_”This CANNOT be our final stand. I won’t allow it!”_

_“Flee if you must. But if you flee now, all this time with us, with me, what good was it for? Running like a coward when you could fight like a Decepticon. Make the end of your time mean something.”_

Megatron removes his hand from Starscream’s throat, pressing it flat to cover the pale star on his wing. He can feel the brand beneath, the shape etched or raised or burned into every soldier he sought to command. Who he led to their death and failed to bring them glory. Starscream was one of the first to be branded. He knelt with his brothers at Megatron’s throne, swore allegiance, obedience, and their very spark to him. Starscream burned Kaon for him and conquered Castus Epsilon to stand at Megatron’s side and endless deaths and victories were won on Starscream’s branded wings.

“I did..” Starscream’s voice is small, gaze turned from Megatron’s as red light burns furiously across his dark face. The smile peeling across his mouth is startling. Not cruel, but painful all the same. “Isn’t that just the most ironic thing you’ve ever heard? Me? Trying to save you and killing you instead?”

“I still function.” Megatron swipes his thumb beneath Starscream’s optic, unsurprised to find it dry. Turns his sight - wanting to make Starscream face him while the other laughed low in his torso like it hurt. “And you’ve found me.”

Starscream’s helm taps the glass behind him, relaxing back and his gaze upon Megatron turns lazy and tired. Unlike Starscream, at least not the creature Megatron knew before. But this wasn’t that mech, he kept needing to remind himself of that. This was Starscream with years of a life Megatron does not know, could not protect him from. Wasn’t there for - because Megatron chose to die that day instead of escape with his seeker.

Seems he got his gladiator’s death after all.

“You asked me if I would try to kill you when I am freed from my malfunctions.” He speaks up and feels Starscream’s tension where he holds him. Notes how small the other is beneath his shadow, how lovely he looks even now. All he has left of his old life, this hurt seeker who failed once again - but punished himself for it. To think it would hurt Starscream so much, Megatron cannot understand. “I think it’s clear we cannot kill one another. Even when we tried.”

Starscream pulls a face, it’s both playful and hurt. Disappointed and thrilled. As complex as his seeker.

“Slag.” He sighs, trying to collect himself in the moment Megatron offered. Allowing him to regain what control he believes himself to have. “I guess I’m stuck with you again.” Mouth twitches with the smile and Megatron chuckles warmly against Starscream’s helm in their strange embrace.

“A fitting punishment for us both, I believe.”

 

...

 

Following the ordeal, Vega asks to be relieved of his training for the following week and Megatron would like to say no, but permits it. The fledgling jet sticks close to his creator, the cause of their fight still unknown, but the rift seems quick to repair itself. He catches Starscream late in the mess hall pulling one of Vega’s books away, replacing it with the energon cell. Petting his broad helm with a smile.

All the adoration a parent can give, it looks good on him.

As for Megatron, Vega seems unwilling to speak to him and they return to their first encounter. Quiet and suspicious, a child’s ego hurt by their own doing. It causes Megatron to think of himself, his early years finding a place to put his anger in the fighting rings. Growing cocky and bold, losing horribly and limping home, every failure a lesson. He did not know how to control his anger then and unlike Starscream, who had war and cleverness to rely on, Vega has no challenges. No competition.

The debris storm continues to pass slowly and they are frozen in time, watching and waiting and delayed.

Skycrux takes Vega flying when boredom hits the young seekers and Starscream can do little else but join them. Leaving Megatron alone to watch them from the bridge, cameras tracking their movement always a few kliks behind. Starscream, ever the elegant shape, loops and twists through open space. The young seekers are exceptional pilots but it is and always has been Starscream’s flight to make Megatron trail from his thoughts and find peace in the ease of the other in motion. Elegant. Unequalled by another. Once the prize of his army, the devilish seeker with too much hurt for his own good. A chaos Megatron once arrogant enough to try and tame.

Megatron finds himself thinking too hard on Vega’s sire. Who captured Starscream’s attention long enough to give him such a mighty yet fragile son? Who could have helped make Starscream create such a noble sparkling? Who could have convinced his spoiled seeker they were worthy...

...when, for millions of years, Megatron had admired Starscream first?

 

…

 

“I dislike this plan.”

“I’m shocked.” Starscream deadpans, shuffling through metal swatches at the bridge. Proving himself incapable of respecting his self-assigned position of “Captain” with pedes up on a station and hardly acknowledging the state of his crew. Vega had abdicated his position on the bridge upon Megatron's arrival but there was little force to make the young jet face him. Training slacked, Megatron’s jobs all but evaporated and the only mech he could find company in was Starscream.

Which was suddenly not the worst.

“It would be better for Skycrux to transport me. Less risk.” Starscream rolled optics at this, comparing a deep mauve to a florescent green.

“Or your old coding could trigger alarms and then the two of you will be caught." He scoffs. "What a glorious return, my liege, getting arrested at a pit stop! I've said it twice now, Crux can only stealth himself through the gates.” Though he grunted his displeasure he could only accept that Starscream was correct. It felt as if he were missing pieces to this plan that no present seeker would share. Why stealth was not priority on a mission of infiltration. Though reassured Krato Thrice was not teeming with armed Autobot patrols, Megatron knew his future rested on success of entering the settlement without issue.

“You don't trust me?” Starscream mocked hurt and seemed interested in a swatch of blue with crystal inlay. “What do you think?”

“I think you're wasting time looking at cosmetic choices instead of strategy.” He frowns harder when Starscream lingers over a dark orange with delight.

“I've gotten by with little issue hacking Cybertronian registration and being certain I can't be tracked. Upgrades and color changes are part of that.” Megatron reflects on the missing talons, Starscream’s new color scheme. “We won't reach orbit for another two solar days so you might as well make yourself useful now.” Starscream held up an ugly teal and a metallic brass. “Which one brings out my naturally good looks most?”

Megatron by miracle alone didn't scattered the cards in frustration, but instead dove a servo into Starscream’s lap where the swatches were piled. The seeker yelped in surprised but soon fell silent as Megatron presented a singular color.

“This one.” Huffed and tried best not to faulted under Starscream’s gaze as the seeker examined the swatch presented.

“You're predictable.” He grinned, pressing the color card to his mouth. “But this isn't the same red I wore last you saw...”

Megatron frowned.

“You wore this when we first met.” Corrected and found it was impossible not to smirk at Starscream’s dawning realization that he was correct. Flipping the swatch about in examination before gawking up at Megatron.

“How did you….remember that?”

He takes the opportunity to duck into Starscream’s space, giving the seeker no room for escape with an arm braced at the chair’s back. Can't avoid the flicker of his gaze to silver stars, mere covers for a surviving brand that Megatron still was given no reason why they remained…

But that they remained at all was enough.

“How could I forget?” Asks with a lowered voice so that it carried over Starscream’s cheek when he spoke. “The loveliest thing in Kaon.”

Starscream greets him with a face stricken in surprise. Optics wide and warm but tense otherwise. It lasts for as long as Megatron needs to regret his words, far too familiar for their situation and Starscream’s soured mood seems to agree. Quickly the seeker ducks under his arm, escapes his shadow with the lowest brush of limbs. Obviously wanting to put as much space between them as possible.

“A red seeker skipping about would only draw the attention of Cybertron, don't be stupid.” He tosses the card back to the pile and it misses by an embarrassing distance. He doesn't seem to care. “You're fine to transform, that part of your subspace engine still works, but if you get stuck it won't matter. Hook will fix you. It will work.”

Megatron can't put a name to it, but he feels Starscream looks almost apologetic in the space between them.

“I still dislike the plan.” He picks up the swatch and doesn't return it to the pile.

“Since when do you like _anything_?”

…

Krato Thrice is very much not what Megatron expected.

He expected a run down slum like Enigma 6. Expected Cybertronians in shadowy corners and broken buildings far as the optic could see. Starscream claimed the settlement began as a repurposed refugee site for those Cybertronians scattered, unsure if they wanted to return home when the war was over.

Megatron expected a scarred moon with a tent on top. Not a metropolis.

He was given little time to stare in wonder at the far reaching buildings, the busy airspace of crafts, both domestic and carrier alike hovering above the city. Vega and Skycrux had prepared their landing verifications, using a device Starscream seemed very protective over that ran code to the docking tower. Approval only meant they wouldn't be shot from the sky and Megatron was surprised to see no obvious gun mounts or military presence waiting. It all seemed too easy. 

A Cybertronian city without war...

“It will be best if you remain as relaxed as possible.” Vega approached Megatron for the first time in days. His face resetting to the stern expression as he obviously fought with discomfort. “Common scans will detect spark coding, but we can scramble that. Any fluctuations might affect our success.”

Megatron doesn't stare at silver stars on black wings.

“If they're reading sparks they'll know you've got a stowaway.” Megatron calls over Vega’s wing, Starscreambusy checking three cases Skycrux appeared with. Only Vega would be strong enough to carry them without issue. Megatron unable to help.

“I've got it covered.” Starscream doesn't look up and continues giving Crux instruction while Megatron falls bitter with the lack of answer.

“We've done this before.” Vega surprisingly offers reassurance. “Kare has most of the entry permissions to Cybertron dominated locations. We swiped them from New-Iacon not too long ago and none of us have outdated coding...expect...You I suppose...”

“Vega, do me a favor.” Megatron took the chance, letting a servo rest heavy over the jet’s broad pauldron so unlike a seeker. Vega watched in small surprise, struggling to remain neutral but his emotions would not be contained. “If your creator gets me killed, take care of my cannon. Will you?" He nodded to the returned weapon now remounted on his arm. A last minute surprise from Starscream the night before. "I don't trust your kare not to let it rust." 

The young seeker lights up in the offering, quick to accept before failing to catch his youthful grin. Megatron knocked the flat of his wing in a simple gesture of comrades that the jet didn't notice.

Megatron could feel the indent of the Decepticon brand beneath the silver star patch. 

“Are we ready?” Starscream invades the moment, moving too quickly and too close to Megatron that even Vega nervously stepped aside. Optics cast away as if embarrassed.

“This isn't going to work.” He repeats.

“Can't be worse than my last plan. Now,” Starscream tapped his cockpit which shifted glass to uncover the empty space. “Get in.”

 

…

 

There’s a loud bang on the door followed by the sound of it being knocked in that nearly causes Hook to drop his lunch. All sorts of violent alarms ring from old battle programming, the long-worn reach of Devastator whining for reconnection but ignored. Hook grabs a flat metal bar and moves from his workroom towards the shop’s entry, expecting some haughty punks looking for mods or perhaps one or two ghosts of the past. Or maybe Scavenger forgot the key combination again?

“Hook! Get out here!”

Instead it’s Starscream and Hook pauses, rethinking whether or not he should bother. Perhaps he could just crawl under his berth and the loud seeker would go away...?

“Hook don’t make me send Vega after you!”

“Vega?” Hook finds himself moving quickly to make himself known, pushing through the dividing doors to the two familiar faces, his visor scanning for any obvious damage as he ignores Starscream entirely and shuffles to the young jet, taking his servo as his gaze takes in a full surface scan. “Are you already out-growing this forge? Can’t believe it. I suppose it’s in your ser's coding but I thought Starscream’s percentage would even you out by now!”

“Oh shut up, we’re not here for Vega. Has Soundwave contacted you yet?” Starscream interrupts and physically pushes to stand between Hook and Vega, looking utterly mischievous to Vega's warm excitment. Which wasn’t a surprise, but even now Hook could tell he’s been refueling on a much more frequent basis than the years before.

“Yes, they contacted me. Then I received ominous shipments in the dead hours this past orbit without explanation. The only instruction was to _wait for further instruction_.” He pulled a face that Starscream seemed to care little for. “I suppose I should have expected you would be showing up. You need another upgrade?”

“Actually, it’s not for me.” Starscream’s grin was wicked and sharp. It brought a certain terrible life back into his features that Hook had not seen since the end of the war. “Hook, I have a personal job to ask of you...”

“Oh. Good. In that case I’d like to refuse.” Flat response but startled when the jet’s cockpit glass shifted to open with movement from inside, leaping out in a blur of gray and black. The familiar shift of gears and machinery. The swell of metal taking shape and components eager to reform until the transformation had Hook falling back to the shop’s floor, staring up in dumbfounded silence.

“You'd refuse?” Megatron stood tall before him, a pleased smile across his worn and proud face. “I’m quite saddened to hear that.”

Starscream ducked to Megatron’s right, leaning against his leader's broad arm without losing that heinous grin. Vega, in the distance, almost looked apologetic for the display.

“Now, do I actually have to ask you to reconsider, or can we get to business?”

…


End file.
